


i “purple” you

by djspookyjiiim



Category: ATEEZ (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Angst, Art School, Betrayal, College AU, Drunk Kissing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gay, Humor, Lots of kissing, M/M, Mentioned Other K-pop Artist(s), Other, Pining, Please read this i will love you forever, San is whipped, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Suggestive Themes, Woosan, Wooyoung loves everyone, crackheads, everyone loves Yunho, hongjoong is extra as hell, mingi and yunho are best friends, san/yeosang, seonghwa has ocd, skater boy yeosang, we need a ship name for San and yeosang please help, yeosang is moody, yungi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 03:23:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djspookyjiiim/pseuds/djspookyjiiim
Summary: Yeosang gets sad.Yeosang gets drunk.Yeosang goes to a party.Yeosang kisses a pretty boy.Yeosang regrets everything.Pretty boy sets off to win Yeosang’s heart.An Art College AU, featuring the dashing, crackhead fools we know as ATEEZ. There will be love, their will be angst, there will be betrayal, there will be food, there will be tears.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> hello darlings!  
> i'm so excited to finally share this.  
> i have many ideas and lots to write, so please stay tuned !!!  
> i hope you enjoy. kudos and comments are highly appreciated. kudos to you for reading it <3
> 
> PS. the rest of the boys will be introduced soon :)

Yeosang hated the sun.

Okay, that was a lie, he loved the sun. It was one of his favorite things, maybe ever. He loved it so much, he would gladly lay beneath it and let it burn him to crisps. Okay that was a lie too because he was fucking terrified of cancer. He always wore sunscreen.    


It was Tuesday, and he had (most probably) just failed his Art History midterm. This was (most probably) awful, as he was only in his third semester at one of the most prestigious art schools in Korea and he could not afford to lose his scholarship. 

So today, he hated the sun. He exited the orange lecture building and shrugged his tattered Naruto bag angrily over his shoulder. He squinted, holding a hand up to his eyes, the sun mocking him with its warmth and blinding light, when everything Yeosang felt was grey grey grey.

He trudged across campus, rolling his eyes at the piles of art students scattered across the grass and littering the stairs. They all looked completely zenned out, smoking and laughing like they had not a care in the world. It was midterms week, what the fuck was wrong with them? Yeosang sped up, shoving his headphones over his bright blue beanie, he turned his music all the way up.

 

. . .

 

It was long past dinner time when Wooyoung burst into Yeosang’s dorm room, a huge grin plastered on his face. 

“Hyung, where the shit were you? You never miss dinner!” He was out of breath, probably having sprinted all the way from the cafeteria.

Yeosang rolled his eyes. “Don’t swear unless you’re gonna do it well, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung pouted, throwing himself down on the bed next to Yeosang, who had been lying there, upside down, for the past five hours. 

“Yah- what’s going on?” Wooyoung jabbed Yeosang’s ribs.

“Nothin- Seriously Wooyoung?!” Yeosang rolled away from his best friend, who had just pulled off his socks, sticking his ice cold feet between Yeosang’s bare legs. 

Wooyoung let out a loud cackle, but quickly shut up when he saw how genuinely upset his hyung seemed. 

“Hey, Sangie-Hyung, what’s wrong?” the blonde said softly. 

Yeosang sighed, swinging an arm over his eyes. “I flunked my midterm today.”

“Which one?”

“Art History,” the brown haired boy groaned, adding “fucking useless class.”

“Are you sure you failed?” Wooyoung asked.

“I’m pretty damn sure. I didn’t recognize a single architectural structure” He went on, “and when I fail, I lose my scholarship. Which means no more college and no more art school in London.” Yeosang slid his hand off his eyes and ran it through his pillow abused hair; his eyes were dark, hopeless.

Wooyoung nudged him again. “Hey I’m sure you did fine, you always manage to get by.” Suddenly the younger boy’s eyes lit up, “and if you didn’t, don’t worry! I know my parents wouldn’t mind helping you out!”

Yeosang looked sharply at his best friend. “I’m not taking your fucking money, Woo.”

“You’re not taking it, Yeo, I want to help-”

“Wooyoung? We’re not having this conversation again.” Yeosang suddenly sat up, knocking his knee against the wall next to his bed. “Ouch.” 

Wooyoung sighed dramatically. 

It was quiet for a moment, before the bedroom door opened and Yeosang’s ridiculously long roommate sauntered in. 

“What up, my dudes?” Yunho grinned at the two of them, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked, feigning shock. 

“Ew, no, Yunho what the fuck?” Yeosang shook his head.

Wooyoung tried not to look offended, “Hey I’m not  _ that  _ ugly, hyung.”

“No, you’re not  _ that _ ugly Wooyoung.” Yunho winked at the younger boy before draping himself across the wooden swivel chair by his desk. How anyone  _ draped _ themself over a swivel chair, Yeosang didn’t know, but then again, Yunho could drape himself over anything.

His roommate sat there expectantly, legs sprawled out in front of him, elbows resting on the armrests of the chair. “So..” he prodded, “why does it feel like y’all are drowning in sadness?” 

Wooyoung raised his hands defensively and pointed at Yeosang accusingly. 

“Ah, Sangie, my child, what is it that hurts you so?” Yunho leaned forward.

“Midterms.. are a bitch.”

“True.”

“And I failed one today so, my tuition next semester will be one too.” Yeosang gave a sad smirk. 

Yunho didn’t say anything, and the silence made Yeosang’s heart sink. Even his best friends couldn’t change what had happened. 

Quickly, Yunho pushed off the floor and rolled across the room, crashing lightly into the side of his mattress. He leaned down, reaching a long arm beneath his bed. After a few moments of loud rummaging, he emerged triumphant… holding a bottle of vodka. 

“Let’s get drunk.” His face glowed mischievously. 

Yeosang raised an eyebrow, Wooyoung’s mouth fell open. 

“Dang, Yunho-Hyung.” the youngest said, already looking over to Yeosang for approval.

“So I’m just supposed to drink my problems away?” Yeosang said skeptically.

“It’s not like this happens every night, Yeo,” Yunho grinned at his dongsaengs. “Come on, it’s been forever since you let loose.”

Wooyoung was practically giddy, bouncing up and down like he was riding a camel. “Come on, Hyung, it will be fun. We can drink and watch Mukbangs.” 

Yeosang rolled his eyes, but he was tired of wallowing in his sorrow. “Fine,” he reached a hand towards Yunho, “pass it over, Hyung.”

. . .

 

They all turned out to be really lame drunks. Yeosang had gone back to laying upside down on his bed, singing Sunmi aggressively under his breath. Yunho and Wooyoung had hunkered down on Yunho’s mattress together and were scrolling through Instagram, snickering at pictures of hairless cats. 

Yeosang sighed, “who knew life could still be a fucking shitshow with countless amounts of vodka in your system?” 

He meant to say it quietly, but both of his friends heard him clearly, raising their heads to look at Yeosang, obviously still suffering. 

A ping sounded from Yunho’s phone and he sat up quickly, opening the message. 

“Hongjoong just texted me..” he grinned and looked up at the other boys. “There’s a party happening at the Design Major house. He said he could get us in.” 

Yeosang scrunched his nose, “it’s Tuesday night  _ and  _ midterms week, why is there a party?”

He thought a moment. “Oh, because it’s Tuesday night and midterms week. I should have guessed.. fucking design majors.”

Another ping came from Yunho’s phone, and this time Wooyoung scooted up to look over the older boys’ shoulder. Yeosang heard what sounded like a video of the rager happening across campus and closed his eyes.

“Holy shitting fuck! Hoshi?” Wooyoung suddenly yelled, then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, looking incredibly guilty. 

Yeosang whipped himself off his bed, staring daggers at Wooyoung. “Hoshi?”

Yunho looked questioningly between the two boys, an eyebrow raised inquisitively. “Who’s Hoshi?”

“Shut up, Hyung,” Yeosang jabbed his head towards Wooyoung, demanding answers. “Why are you yelling about Hoshi, Woo?”

Wooyoung ducked his head, trying to avoid Yeosang’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Hyung.. I- he,” Wooyoung let out a breath. “He’s at the party.”

Everything in Yeosang was screaming, confused.  _ Why would he be back in Korea? Why had he not told him he was coming back? _

He barely registered Yunho turning quietly to Wooyoung. “Who’s Hoshi?”

Wooyoung looked at Yeosang, who half nodded, giving Wooyoung permission to fill Yunho in.

“He and Yeosang used to date… everyone thought they were going to be together forever… it wasn’t even a question.” Wooyoung continued; “it was always Yeosang and Hoshi, no one doubted it.”

Yunho looked up at Yeosang, who nodded sadly. “What happened?” He directed the question towards the sullen boy.

Yeosang shrugged. “He left, for an internship in America. He was offered an incredible position as an assistant director at some small film company..” he nodded thoughtfully. “I was never going to stop him, but I never thought he’d actually go.”

“Everyone lost their shit” Wooyoung added, before clapping his hand over his mouth again.

“Thanks, Woo,” Yeosang scoffed. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled through his palm.

“And now he’s back?” Yunho asked, bringing the conversation back.

“I guess so. Woo said he saw him at the party.” Wooyoung nodded certainly at that.

“Did it end on bad terms?”   
“No,” Yeosang said, shaking his head. “It just ended. He never said it was over or anything. I woke up, and he had gone, like he said he would.. I guess I just didn’t want to believe him.”

“Yikes.” Yunho breathed, then looked to Yeosang, realizing something. “That’s why you’ve been such a prude this entire year.” He chuckled. “You thought he might come back, so you’ve been waiting for him.

Yeosang smirked in acknowledgement. 

Yunho looked pleased at his deductive work. “I knew it didn’t make sense that my pretty roommate wasn’t getting any.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Thanks, Yunho. You’re a real gem.” Yeosang snorted.

Wooyoung looked expectedly between the two of them, bouncing again. “So.. should we go to the party?”

“Hecking yes we should go to the party!” Yunho laughed. “You gotta go get your man back, Yeo. Or at least show him what a stud muffin he missed out on.”

Yeosang couldn’t help but laugh. “I do  _ not  _ look like a fucking stud muffin right now, but okay.”

Wooyoung let out a strangled cry. “Yeosang! Hyung! Let me dress you!” He practically fell off the bed, trying to get to his friend. 

“I don’t have any stud muffin worthy clothing, Woo” Yeosang smiled sadly.

Yunho perked up, “I do.”

Wooyoung and Yeosang both looked confusedly at Yunho, who they had never seen in anything but sweats and hoodies. 

Yunho just laughed and pulled open his closet, revealing a rack of clothing so ridiculous even Wooyoung’s mouth fell open.

“Yunho,” Yeosang said bewilderdely, “when the fuck?”

“Eh, sometimes when you’re not home I like to whip on a little something and-”

“Oh my god, I do not want to know.” Yeosang blinked.

“I do!” Wooyoung was positively beaming at Yunho. 

“I thought you were going to make me look like a stud muffin.” Yeosang smacked Wooyoung, not wanting him to egg Yunho on. He was very content to keep the image he had of his supposedly chill roommate, untainted. 

Wooyoung grinned and dove into Yunho’s closet. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang looks hella good, but that boy across the room looks better. 
> 
> AKA alcohol and its alcoholic qualities.

Yeosang looked deadly. A silver belt glinted at his waist, snaking through the loops of his shredded black jeans. His shoulders and torso were swathed in layers of black gauze, the blouse rippling with every sway of his arms. Wooyoung had left the collar weepingly open, exposing Yeosang’s milk-white collar bones and choker laden neck. It was safe to say Wooyoung was proud of his work, finishing the look with a sweep of dark shadowed liner across his best friend’s eyelids. 

The air was empty of sound, but Yeosang felt the hum of music pounding through the sidewalk beneath his boots. He walked across the street and found the address he had written on the inner side of his wrist. It didn’t look like a fraternity. The house was huge, practically victorian; with colored glass and sculpted fixtures outside the windows. His insides burned, but the brisk walk and excessive changing of clothes had cleared his head a bit. He could hear Yunho and Wooyoung rambling along behind him, arms linked and laughing hysterically at absolutely nothing.

Inside, the floors were oak, their rich brown color stained with diluted blues and purples from the disco lights threaded across the ceilings. The walls dripped bodies, all moving and clinging to one another. Yeosang stepped in.

The air around him shook with the growl of a thousand bass guitars, spilling the smell of booze down his arms. He walked between boys, their hips sliding against the waists of whoever was closest; and girls, dancing with hands up their skirts, to the tables littered with bottles and flasks.

The Art History exam flooded his thoughts.  _ Stupid fucking test _ . He couldn’t imagine losing his scholarship over something as trivial as ancient Rome. He held his breath like he might disappear if he held it long enough. He wished for Hoshi, for the older boy’s palm to lay lightly at the bottom of Yeosang’s spine, pressing gently at his back as if he could push  _ safe  _ right into his skin. Yeosang looked up, suddenly remembering why he had allowed Wooyoung to paint him as an elusive goth in the first place. His eyes flew over the crowd trying to spot his ex. Why hadn’t he told him he was back from America?

He was yanked back to reality with a hand crawling across his waist. 

“What can I get you?” a voice mewled against his ear, sending chills down his sides. Yeosang turned, smoothly lifting the stranger’s hand and dropping it neatly. Realizing this was exactly what Wooyoung had set him up for, he sighed and looked at the space between the intruder’s eyebrows, before flicking his eyes to meet the taller boy’s. His mind was clear and awake; he wanted it poisoned. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Yeosang growled, then continued: “I’ll have one of each.”

 

**. . .**

 

Yeosang had lost his breath. He swam in the colored strobes, his limbs fluid and electric in the mass of humans swaying and grinding to the screams of Bowie. His body shivered with sweat and the touch of a million strangers’ hands. He was so warm, he practically evaporated. His hair had gone rogue, all the crimping Wooyoung had done releasing into loose waves.

There was a slew of girls with their dresses hitched up to their belly buttons, legs of every color and size snaking down, ending in a crush of stilettos. He leaned back against the crowd of intoxication, finding clouds and nothingness. He let out a small yelp of laughter, his thoughts miles away from his exam and scholarships. Everything was alive, and he hadn’t felt this spilling of happiness since Hoshi.  _ Hoshi _

He walked lazily through the crowd, his steady gait a mockery of all the stumbling people and wasted dancers. His dark hair ruffled sharply at his ear, and a leather jacket draped effortlessly across his shoulders. Yeosang swelled, his heart and legs bounding after him. _Hoshi._ It had been months since Yeosang’s fingers had softly held his jaw, his lips skimming the edge of his cheeks, barely rough with morning stubble. Years since he had threaded himself through his arms and felt his heart moving on his temple. Decades since he’d listened to his smile and lain drunk in his scent. And it had been centuries since they’d kissed; still aching from ceaseless laughter and the sight of each other.

Now, he had finally reached him; a comforting darkness amongst the dazed and delirious. Yeosang’s hands swept across his back and up towards his neck. His mouth found Hoshi’s, and the entire world burst into flames. 

He could feel him everywhere. He allowed a moan to whisper through his lips, imploring the older boy to respond; wrap his hands around him, push his fingers into his hair.  _ Why didn’t he touch him?  _ His mouth tasted dry and bitter, like gin and stale crackers. He kicked himself for drinking, Hoshi’s honey and smoke mouth untraceable. His tongue glided over his teeth, feeling for the eventual rise and fall of his twisted canine. Yeosang’s body went cold.

His mind was awake, his eyes were fully open; the boy he had just been kissing’s were too. Their dark eyes blinked at each other. The walls screamed, and the ceiling burned, but Yeosang heard nothing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wut up cuties!  
> sorry for the short chapter :/  
> thank you again for reading, i hope to be back with a new chapter sooooon.  
> please let me know what you thought, it would be ever so appreciated.  
> xx


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang stared at the boy he had just been kissing, realizing all at once how very wrong he’d been.
> 
> “Fuck, you’re not Hoshi”
> 
> PSYCH ! guess san really looks like hoshi in a dark room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey :)  
> we back.  
> there’s some perspective changes in this chapter.. i hope it’s not too confusing !!!  
> if anything confuses you, please let me know.
> 
> i’M planning on posting tuesdays and thursdays with some possible surprise updates in between so yeehaw.  
> thanks for reading :)  
> comments and kudos are appreciated.  
> xx

Yeosang stared at the boy he had just been kissing, realizing all at once how very wrong he’d been.

“Fuck, you’re not Hoshi” he rasped, still breathless and strung out from the urgency of the kiss.

The boy laughed, looking slightly alarmed, yet incredibly and worryingly comfortable.

“No, I’m not Hoshi.”

“But..” And then Yeosang saw him, the _real_ him. The boy he had spent months sketching in the back of class following the break-up, each drawing getting angrier and more lonely. The boy who had built him up and torn him down. The boy who had taught him everything he knew about love, and everything he knew about hate. The boy who was now leaning against the wall, with a taller, ethereal looking guy biting at his neck. Hoshi’s eyes were closed, arms wrapped around his partner’s waist, a smile dancing on his lips.

“Hoshi,” Yeosang whispered, not sure if the crack in his voice was due to anger or devastation. His arms were still twisted around the imposter’s neck, who now turned over his shoulder to follow Yeosang’s gaze. Taking in the scene, he turned back to Yeosang.

“He seems busy, let’s show him what he’s missing.”

Yeosang’s attention snapped back to the dark haired boy. His smile was poison, Yeosang felt himself shiver. The slightly taller boy leaned forward, and brought his mouth to Yeosang’s. And Yeosang let him, because finally, _finally,_ someone was kissing him back; and it felt fucking incredible.

 

. . .

 

The dude had been kissing San for twenty minutes. Not that he was complaining, but his tongue was starting to hurt and the only time the smudgy boy would release him was to take another shot, which was, in all honesty, starting to concern San. Hoshi had escaped to somewhere unbeknownst to anyone, and San had noticed the boy notice. Which is why, he presumed, the darkly clad jump-kisser was drinking like he was trying to die before the sun came up.

San’s hand wrapped around the intoxicated boy’s neck, gasping slightly when he touched the cold metal dotting his choker. Whoever he was kissing was cute; kind of beautiful, really. San was impressed by the amount of alcohol he had watched him consume during their tête-à-tête, but thought it might be best that someone slow him down before he died.           

“Hey,” San grabbed the boy’s wrist as he reached for another shot off a passing tray. “How do you feel about some fresh air?”

The boy sighed, dropping his head on to San’s shoulder. “Yeah, okay.”

San slipped his hand around his waist, guiding him as gently as he could through the horde of grinding, drunk art students. They stumbled out the front door, San more or less carrying his inebriated companion. He brought them over to a bench, decorated with a grotesquely painted dog and they both collapsed, allowing themselves to soak in the midnight breeze. San glanced over at the boy, finally getting a good look at him. He had been on campus for over a year, and yet, never had he seen an exquisite, dark creature such as the boy currently dry heaving next to him on the bench. San reached over and softly ran his fingers up his back, massaging his shaking shoulders. He felt an unfamiliar and sudden urge to take care of him and shook his head as if possessed. He blamed the bass of the music, still ringing in his ears, for the foreign thoughts. The boy finished his impressive display of vomiting and groaned as he leaned back against the bench.

“So, what’s your name, vampire boy?” San asked, watching him as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He was surprised he had managed to keep his excessively billowy shirt clean.

The boy just scoffed. Rather than answering, he swung his leg over San’s and settled in his lap. Wrapping his arms behind his head, he pressed his lips hungrily against San’s.

San pulled away, “Okay, gross. You were emptying your guts maybe, thirty seconds ago.”

“Huh,” the boy said thoughtfully.

“You know if you want to keep kissing me I’m all in, man.. Just maybe come over to my dorm so I can give you some mouthwash or something.”

“Yeah, okay.”

 

. . .

  


Vampire boy had taken San’s words very seriously. After San had led him into his dorm, the boy had simply extended a hand, and said: “mouthwash.” So San had gone and found it, and now they were on San’s bed, wearing significantly less clothing than before and kissing like fourth graders who had just discovered tongue. It was surprisingly quiet, almost lazy, but very wet. San was strewn across his pillows, the boy kneeling over him, his hands running through San’s hair, which was getting really fucking greasy.

He was really, very beautiful, San thought. Not all bones, but not incredibly built either. His skin was almost opalescent; white and glistening with a drunken sweat. He felt himself getting lost in the kiss; he could get used to having a pretty boy on top of him. But then the boy, who San had decided must be an angel, albeit a really fucked up one, started moving down San’s torso, hands reaching for his belt buckle.

San panicked. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do more with this perfect, willing, stranger, but Jongho was sleeping in the bed across the room and more importantly, they were both way too fucked up for San not to feel like he would be taking advantage of him. _Shit._

    San grabbed the boy’s wrists for the second time that night, pulling them away from his zipper, already half undone.

“Stop,” San said softly.

“What the fuck, I thought you were into this” the boy breathed.

“Shh, shh,” San urged, trying not to wake Jongho. “I am. Really, _really,_ I am…” he paused, running a finger through the confused boy’s mussed up hair, “but not right now, not tonight.”

San thought the boy might get angry, storm out, maybe. But instead he dropped his head onto San’s chest and burst into tears. _What the fuck. What the fuck??_

San was freaking out. He didn’t know what to do about tears that didn’t belong to him. Maybe he should let him blow him, just so he’d stop crying? _No,_ _what the fuck?_

Slowly, he brought his arms around the boy, shifting them both carefully so his head was cocooned against San’s shoulder. He leaned his chin down, bringing his lips to the crying boy’s forehead.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Shit, you’re okay babe.” _Babe?_ God, San thought he must be losing his fucking mind. When was the last time he had said that seriously?

He reached up, careful not to jostle him too much and wiped the tears staining his cheeks. San sighed and stretched his neck back so he was looking at his ceiling. This is really not how he expected his night to be going. He was used to boys getting it on and getting out, but _not_ getting it on and _no_ t getting out all in one night? Plus tears? What a weird fucking time.

He glanced back down at the boy on his chest, surprised to see him snoring gently, a small bubble of post cry snot gathered at his nostril.

“Gross,” San whispered, scrunching his nose. He stared some more, “kinda cute though,” he decided softly.

He closed his eyes.

“Good night,” San breathed. “Please don’t suffocate my arm.”

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't we all just love the morning after?
> 
> . . .
> 
> “Hey, you can’t just leave!” His voice was rough, yet high, obviously still strung with sleep.
> 
> “Watch me,” Yeosang whispered in response. And then he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello !!!  
> i'm back (and a day late, i'm sorry)  
> feelings are happening. midterms suck.  
> mystery boy? revealed!  
> i can't wait to introduce the other boys. it's going to happen soooooon!  
> thank you again for reading, you are all lovely.

There was only one person on campus who  _ anticipated _ getting up at ungodly hours of the morning. 

His alarm had barely begun bleating when Jongho shot up in bed, hand flying out and silencing the ring. Five A.M and everything was dark. Jongho grinned and slid off his mattress, grabbing his gym clothes off the back of his desk chair before padding into the bathroom. The mirrored shelf above the sink was open and cluttered, like someone had been hastily rummaging through it. Jongho cursed inwardly and did his best to straighten it out, but soon gave up and closed the glass door. There was no amount of tidying he could do that would keep the messed up cabinet from going unnoticed by Seonghwa. He resigned to pulling on his gym clothes, wrapping a brace around his left knee and tying up his sneakers. He tried to do a quick job of brushing his teeth,  but got distracted by the muscle tee he had on and started flexing in the mirror.

 

Eventually, he pulled himself together and went to collect his phone and water bottle from the bedside table. There was a bit of wiggle to his step as he headed for the door leading to the hallway; he hadn’t even gotten out of the dorm room and his endorphins were already soaring. He pulled quietly at the doorknob, trying not to wake his roommate. But the morning wasn’t kind to him, and it stuck. He sighed silently, knowing what came next wasn’t going to be pretty (or quiet). Carefully, he grasped the doorknob and shook it, before yanking it sharply to the left. It let out a terrible squeak, and Jongho’s insides deflated, but the door swung open. He turned as he began to walk through the doorway, checking quickly to make sure he hadn’t woken San. He hadn’t. San was fast asleep, one arm thrown above his head, his mouth slightly open, soft snores rippling in the air. Jongho grinned triumphantly before his gaze slid to the left, and he found himself staring into a pair of confused, sleep-addled eyes, illuminated slightly by the warm light from the hallway. He stepped back in surprise, quickly taking in San and this stranger’s tangled position and minimal amount of clothing. 

“What the fuck, San?” Jongho breathed, and shaking his head, walked out of the dorm room, closing the door behind him. 

 

. . .

 

The door closed, and Yeosang was thrown into darkness. He felt flushed and warm, like he had been yanked from the deepest of sleep. He waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the room around him.  _ Shit. Shitshithshit. _  Yeosang was suddenly very awake. He felt an odd sense of deja-vu, like the past few days had been exactly that: head heavy, mind fogged; and then  _ awake awake awake.  _ He wasn’t in his dorm room; the godforsaken muscle boy had given away that much… but he wasn’t alone either. 

Yeosang swallowed a yelp, realizing all at once that the comfortable warmth he felt was due to him being wrapped around a sleeping boy. He scrambled away as gently as he could, desperately feeling below his bare abdomen. His pants were on, Wooyoung’s Gucci belt still secured tightly around his hips. 

“Thank fuck” Yeosang breathed, barely a whisper.

He hadn’t slept with the boy. Okay, scratch that. He hadn’t had sex with him. 

Yeosang didn’t take any more time figuring out what had happened the night before. He just needed to get out, and far far away from the guy he’d just been canoodling. 

Half rolling, half sliding out of the bed, he dropped to the floor and began feeling around for his discarded clothes. He found his Docs and phone by the bedside table; he grabbed the device and used the low light from his screen to search out the pile of gauze that had served as his shirt. He pulled on his boots and shrugged himself into the blouse. Pulling himself off the carpet of the dorm room, he crept towards the door, anxious to get home and cleanse himself of the previous night’s activities. He stood, and felt his mind go spinning, his vision white. He grabbed the edge of the table, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a gasp, waiting for his brain to calm down. Fuck, he had a major hangover… and a midterm later that day. Fucking design majors. 

When Yeosang felt more or less steady, he straightened up and clasped the doorknob, turning it softly. It let out a screech so vile, he turned, prepared to fight a demon. He stood in the open doorway, the light streaming into the room from behind him, leaving a halo around his head. He faced no demon. Instead, the boy who had been mercifully asleep, was pushing up on his elbows, arms and chest rippling with gentle strength in the glow from the hallway. Yeosang’s eyes went wide, sliding up the boy’s body and finding themselves ensnared in his dark, sleep-drunk gaze. 

“Hey,” the newly awake boy said softly.

Yeosang couldn’t tell if he was grinning at him or squinting to block out the light grazing his face. He shook his head; he wasn’t here for small talk. He wasn’t here for anything. In fact, he had just been leaving. He turned on his heel, and stepped into the hallway, closing the door swiftly behind him, but not before he heard the boy cry out.

“Hey, you can’t just leave!” His voice was rough, yet high, obviously still strung with sleep. 

“Watch me,” Yeosang whispered in response. And then he ran. 

  
  


. . .

  
  


It was still dark outside, but Yeosang could see the sun creeping through the spaces between the campus buildings. After he had gotten far enough from the boy’s dorm, he had stopped running. His head was pounding and he could see his breath untangling in front of him. Yunho’s gauze contraption offered no protection from the cold morning breeze and Yeosang was pretty sure he could feel hair sprouting along his arms in a plea for warmth as he walked. Thankfully, his own dorm wasn’t too far, but he took his time, trying to slow his thoughts and unscramble the events of the night before. 

It didn’t come back in a rush, rather like a crescendo of slow-moving dominoes. There was the failed midterm,  _ fuck,  _ and then Yunho’s glorious stash of alcohol. Wooyoung’s makeover, the party… Hoshi. 

Yeosang’s breath disappeared, leaving the air empty. Hoshi was back, for whatever reason, and he hadn’t told Yeosang. Hoshi was also making out with beautiful men at house parties. Beautiful men that weren’t Yeosang. 

The scene stuttered through Yeosang’s mind; everyone around him was moving at the speed of light, everyone but the boy he had staked everything on. The boy he had decided would be the rest of his life. Every breath, every thump of his heart, every laugh, every tear, was for Hoshi; even after he had left, determined that his supposed true love would return. It was impossible that he wouldn’t. Yeosang was right. He had returned, but not in the way he was supposed to. He wasn’t even sure if he knew what “supposed to” was, but it was never this. Yeosang remembered anger, and devastation; he remembered pain and confusion. But now, in the early, bleeding sky, everything he had felt, evaporated; and it left him empty. All he was left with, was a deep, unfillable question mark right where his heart moved. 

He walked the rest of the way blind.

  
  


. . .

  
  


Yeosang went straight to the bathroom. Locking the door, he pulled himself out of his clothes, momentarily slumping against the door. His body felt wrecked and abused. He walked to the sink, curling his bare feet against the cold tile. 

Looking up, he met his own gaze in the glass of the mirror; he blinked slowly. Sighed. His eyeliner had smudged and run down his cheeks, illustrating the path his tears had taken.  _ Right. _ He had cried.

He closed his eyes, remembering how he had kissed the dark-haired stranger silly. Emptying every damned punch of devastation into the boy’s mouth. He hadn’t been gentle. Biting, sucking, clashing their teeth together, his hands curled tightly in the other’s dark hair. The boy hadn’t seemed to mind. Yeosang had ended up in his bed, and the boy kissed him back. But the stranger hadn’t let him touch him; he had said no. And Yeosang had cried on his chest, finally understanding what he was: broken. He felt it beat through him with every rush of blood leaving his heart. The piece of Hoshi he had held onto, as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, ripped from him. He was alone. And the boy had held him, called him “baby” until he slept.

He got in the shower, and tears joined the soapy water circling the drain. 

  
  


. . .

 

He wanted to sleep, fall into bed and never get up. But it was midterms week, and Yeosang couldn’t afford to do badly. He dragged himself into clean sweats and pulled on his favorite beanie. He needed a coffee, and it needed to be positively ruined with caffeine. 

Walking into the small kitchen, he found Yunho leaning against the counter, mindlessly shuffling some eggs around in a pan. Everything Yunho did, he did with an air of casualness, and Yeosang envied him for it. 

“Hey, Yeo- shit,” Yunho looked up, pausing when he saw Yeosang’s devastated state.

“Dude, did you die?” He abandoned his eggs and went to the sink, filling a glass with water and bringing it to Yeosang.

Yeosang accepted it gratefully and drank deeply. Yunho went back to leaning against the counter, arms crossed expectantly. 

“Yeo, where did you go last night? Woo and I looked everywhere,” he paused. “Wooyoung thought you left with Hoshi but-”

“But he was with someone else, I know,” Yeosang said, irritated. 

Yunho looked apologetically at Yeosang. “We didn’t know where you went. Wooyoung freaked out when he realized you might have seen… he came here to wait for you, but I made him go home and sleep before his tests.”

“Yeah, I saw. And I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” Yeosang finished the water, setting the glass down roughly. 

“Okay yeah, we don’t need to talk about it.” Yunho’s eyes dropped. 

“I’m sorry, Hyung. I just..” he sighed, “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. I get it. Just let me know if you need anything.” Yunho shut the stove off and turned towards the cabinets for a plate, his back to Yeosang. “I have Arnica gel if you need,” Yunho said, a smile creeping into his voice.

Yeosang’s head jerked up questioningly. “Why would I need Arnica gel?”

Yunho practically twirled to face Yeosang again, his eyebrows and lips both quirking up. “I don’t know bud, looks like you got some pretty bruises there.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened and he clapped his hands to his throat.  _ Fuck. _ He hadn’t even checked for hickeys; of course the dude had marked him up. Yeosang stood, deciding he’d pick up a coffee at the cafeteria. He didn’t want Yunho to figure out what had gone down the night before.

“I’m going.” He headed towards their bedroom to get his bag.

Yunho just laughed fondly. “Okay. We can talk about it later.”

“Nope,” Yeosang yelled back. He opened the door, ready to get himself far away from his prying roommate. He felt like he had been running from everything lately.

“Oh, Yeosang,” Yunho hollered from the kitchen, and Yeosang paused to listen.

“Hongjoong Hyung’s coming for dinner. So, if you need any laundry done…”

Yeosang grinned despite himself, laughing internally at his ridiculous friends. Hongjoong had been dying to get himself a studio apartment forever, and this year he had, and it was spectacular. But it was also hella expensive, so Joong’s food situation was dire. Yunho and Yeosang were happy to have him over for dinner whenever he needed, but understandably, they abused their power and made Hongjoong do their chores as a sort of payment. Really, Hongjoong had never been happier to fold laundry. 

“Cool,” Yeosang shouted back and walked out. 

  
  


. . .

  
  


Yeosang felt a lot better about the midterms he’d had today. He was good at music theory, and his illustration exam had been an interpretive figure drawing, which he was pretty sure he aced. Every time he was challenged and performed well, he only felt more confident about his decision to major in art. 

His headache was mostly gone and he was starving. He made his way back to his dorm room and found Yunho and Hongjoong setting the table for dinner. Well, Hongjoong was setting the table; Yunho was draped (again) over the couch, throwing a green ball repeatedly into the air. 

Yeosang dropped his bag on the floor and yawned.

Hongjoong looked up, “Hi Yeosang-” his eyes widened, noticing the dark bites dotting his jaw. 

“Woah, where were you last night?” 

Yeosang rolled his eyes and Yunho swept himself off the couch, approaching Yeosang and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “He doesn’t want to talk about it, Hyung” He said dramatically, winking at Yeosang who was standing there with an un-amused look on his face. 

“Yeah, what he said.” 

Hongjoong just shrugged, looking pleased. “Okey dokey, Sangie. I’m happy for you.”

“And I have laundry for you, Hyung,” Yeosang said, voice dripping with venom. 

Hongjoong beamed. 

Yunho brought out ramen and rice cakes. Yeosang was so hungry and drained, he felt an unending amount of gratitude for his roommate’s skills in the kitchen. He leaned back in his chair, chewing thoughtfully as Hongjoong and Yunho discussed their midterms. Completely uninterested in thinking about exams, his mind wandered, and he found himself thinking about the events of that morning again. He figured it was the boy’s roommate who had woken him up, leaving early for the gym. And he had said..  _ oh! _

Suddenly Yeosang sat up, “do either of you know a San?” he was grateful it wasn’t a common name, otherwise, he may have never remembered. 

Hongjoong raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I do. Choi San, he’s a theater major.”

Yunho and Hongjoong exchanged glances. “Why?” Hongjoong pressed.

“Nothing, fuck you.”

Hongjoong smirked. “Okay then,  _ dongsaeng _ .”

“Sorry, Hyung. He just requested to follow me on Instagram, it’s nothing.”

“Sure.” 

Yeosang pouted at his Hyungs, then grabbing his bowl of Ramen, retreated into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

_ Choi San. Choi San.  _ He found the boy’s Instagram almost immediately, and it was public. Yeosang scrolled quietly, disgust slowly filling him as he went through San’s feed. There were an obnoxious amount of selfies, San smiling coyly into the camera, flashing dimples and making bedroom eyes. There were some videos of him singing (quite well, Yeosang begrudgingly thought), and some group photos of him and his friends. They were all pretty. And evil, Yeosang decided. He didn’t appreciate pretentious assholes; unfortunately, art school was full of them. And he had thrown himself directly at one.  

He truly made horrible decisions when he was drunk. He sighed and closed his phone, chucking it away from him. He was so ready for the week to be over; midterms were a pain and left him with almost no time for himself. He looked across the room to where his skateboard was leaning untouched against the wall. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get back to the skate park. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for being here :)  
> comments and kudos are unbelievably appreciated.  
> love you lots.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we all love san don't fight me on this
> 
> “You know,” San said over his shoulder, and Seonghwa paused to listen. “Mingi texted me that he’s coming over later, so I wouldn’t go too crazy on the cleaning, it would really be a waste,” there was a mischievous smile on his face. Mingi was San’s best friend; all three of the boys loved him dearly, but there was no denying that he drove Seonghwa up the fucking wall.
> 
> Seonghwa groaned. “Fucking hell, why do I even bother?” He walked out of the kitchen towards the bathroom, calling over his shoulder “Fine, but you better tell him to keep his thick ass off my bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello cuties !!!  
> funny story: i actually had this chapter ready to post on monday, but for some reason i've been feeling super unhappy with how it turned out so i am only posting it because it is necessary that y'all read it before the next chapter (A GOOD ONE) comes out :/  
> there's not much dialogue in this chapter, but the last of the boys- MINGI AND SEONGHWA ARE INTRODUCED YEETHAW
> 
> i hope you all enjoy, i promise the next chapter will be super juicy ;)  
> OH ! EXPECT CHAPTER SIX TOMORROW LOVIES !!!

It was San’s opinion that Jongho was a bully, and he made it known.

“Jongho, you’re a bully.”

Jongho only grinned as he smashed the power button on their blender. “It’s just a jog, Hyung. I know you like running.”

“Maybe I’d like it if we didn’t have to wake up so goddamn early,” San mumbled, tying his sneakers. 

Midterms were finally over. Jongho had dragged San out of bed that morning, saying he had spent too much time cooped up inside studying and that it was time to “get that ass moving.” Jongho stood over him, hands on his hips, and San realized he didn’t have much choice in the matter. 

“Come on, we’ll go slow, and next week I’ll take you to the gym so you can start weight training.” He handed San a freshly blended banana smoothie,  and his roommate thanked him. 

San was eager to get in the habit of lifting, feeling strongly that his body could use some toning. The next time he flicked his best friend Mingi on the forehead for acting like an idiot- which was inevitable- he wanted to leave a bruise.

The two boys stood up, ready to leave, but stopped at an annoyed cough behind them. 

“You want to clean up before you head out?” Seonghwa said, more of a directive than a question. He stood in the doorway to their kitchen, his blonde hair ruffled and glowing in the sunlight streaming through the windows. He was still in his pajamas, a matching set-  _ who wears pajama sets? _ \- and a towel hung around his neck.  _   
_ “I’m deep cleaning the apartment today, and it would make my job ever so much easier if you two could pick up after yourselves.” He said it sarcastically, lilting his words to mock his less than adequately clean apartment mates. 

Jongho sighed and turned to wash their dishes but San waved him back, “I’ll do it, Jongho,” then smirked at Seonghwa, “sorry, Hyung.” He bowed sarcastically, and turned the water on, lathering up the utensils they had used earlier.

“You know,” San said over his shoulder, and Seonghwa paused to listen. “Mingi texted me that he’s coming over later, so I wouldn’t go too crazy on the cleaning, it would really be a waste,” there was a mischievous smile on his face. Mingi was San’s best friend; all three of the boys loved him dearly, but there was no denying that he drove Seonghwa up the fucking wall. 

Seonghwa groaned. “Fucking hell, why do I even bother?” He walked out of the kitchen towards the bathroom, calling over his shoulder “Fine, but you better tell him to keep his thick ass off my bed.”

San and Jongho snickered. They were grateful Seonghwa had agreed to live with them, as they couldn’t afford to pay for the apartment alone, and had decided to let him have his own room, not wanting to subject him to the mess that was theirs; it was better for everyone’s health. 

San finished washing the dishes and shut off the tap, wiping his hands on his Adidas trackies. “Alright, let’s get this the fuck over with,” he grabbed Jongho’s hand and hauled him up. Jongho slapped San on the back encouragingly and followed him out the door. 

 

. . .

 

San could admit, he was out of shape. Yes, he danced pretty regularly- just because it gave him some release, and Mingi always had some new choreography to teach him, but trying to keep up with Jongho required a new level of fit he just didn’t have. Jongho had led him off campus, finding a trail that led to a pond, he’d insisted on stopping to do burpees along the water’s edge. San felt strong waves of hatred- aimed at the younger boy- and sweat, dripping off his body. San followed Jongho wherever he led him, trying to keep pace. 

On the way back towards campus, at a mercifully slower pace, they passed the skate park on the edge of the campus grounds. San heard Jongho yelling something at him, so he ripped his earphones out, pausing his music.

“What?” He panted, catching up with Jongho.

“Isn’t that the dude you had over last week?” Jongho jerked his chin in the direction of the ramps. San was confused, curious as to how Jongho would have remembered but he followed Jongho’s gaze and- “shit, you’re right.” There he was: Vampire Boy. He didn’t look much like a vampire anymore, San thought. He was wearing an absurdly large pink tee, and a shockingly blue beanie. His jeans stretched and relaxed as he skated up and down the ramps, pulling tricks as he reached the top. 

“Hey, you!” San yelled out, slowing to a snail’s pace, but still moving to keep up with Jongho. He didn’t usually look to reconnect with his one night stands, but the boy hadn’t even  _ been _ a one night stand. And San had to admit he was curious about him, he had cried on his chest for fuck’s sake.  _ What’s your name, vampire boy? _

The boy looked up and almost fell off his board. He brought himself to a stop in the middle of the ramp, stepping on his board so it flew up into his hand, squinting at the two boys, clearly not having recognized them.   
San peeled away from Jongho, jogging quickly towards the boy. 

The boy’s eyes widened as he saw San approaching. San could see the moment recognition flashed through his eyes, and smiled cheekily. The boy shook his head quickly at San and dropped his board on the asphalt.

“Wait!” San sped up, but the boy had pushed off the ground, skating off the ramp and towards the campus. He moved swiftly, leaning to swerve through the bushes lining the edge of the park. As he skated away, he turned, meeting San’s gaze for a moment before snapping his head back around and disappearing around a bend.

San stopped, resting his hands on his knees and panting lightly.  _ Why does he keep fucking leaving? _ He felt Jongho’s hand on his shoulder, he was snickering. “Tough luck, dude.”

 

. . .

 

When they got back to their apartment, San pushed past Jongho, “I'm showering first,” and threw himself into the bathroom,

He locked the door behind him, stripped, and turned on the shower. He stepped under the falling water, not waiting for it to heat up. He shivered, and stretched his neck upward, letting the freezing drops hit his throat. The water heated up quickly and he lathered up his hair with shampoo. He stood under the water, feeling the suds run down the back of his neck. 

He wasn’t surprised the boy had run from him; that’s how it had always been. He didn’t know why he expected anything different like somehow he had found someone who wouldn’t leave. It was just a hookup, for god’s sake… not even. 

San couldn’t remember the last time someone had stayed. Even his parents had completely abandoned him- not physically, but in every other sense. 

 

_ At fourteen he had found his dad cheating. His mum found out soon after but was too embarrassed to stir anything up, so she stayed. San wished she hadn’t. They fought constantly, their anger towards each other completely obstructing any real partnership they could have had, and in turn, causing them to forget they had a son. He lived under the same roof as his parents, but that was where their relationship ended. He had to steal his dad’s credit cards to buy food for the house, eating ramen most nights. He walked miles to school, through every season. He got jobs walking dogs and tending to people’s gardens so he could save up for a winter coat. He worked his ass off at school, knowing even at a young age that if he wanted to get anywhere in terms of college, he needed perfect grades for scholarships. Occasionally, his mum would cook a nice dinner for the three of them. She’d call San down from his room and have him sit with them, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she set the meats down on the table. His dad would crack jokes and San would laugh, desperately hoping that it would stick, that something had changed and they would be a family again. But it would always fall apart, and San would be alone again, with his ramen and school books, earphones in to block out the yelling happening around him.  _

_ But he kept going back. Every time his mother would buy something small and nice for him, or his dad would take him for a day at the sauna, he’d let himself get carried away, ready to trust and have his parents again.  _

_ The day he came downstairs, college acceptance letter clutched in his hands, his parents beamed and hugged him tightly. He’d been accepted into his dream college, hoping to study theater. He had gotten most of the scholarships he needed, but it was an expensive and exclusive school and they hadn’t been able to offer him a full ride. He had gritted his teeth, prepared to deny his admission and apply to a less expensive school, but his parents had urged him not to, offering to pay the rest of his tuition. San had believed them; he always did. And they broke their word like they always did. Not having applied to a second school, he had nowhere to go the next year, he broke down. Finally, after years and years of letting himself fall back on his family, he decided to stop lying to himself; his parents had left him to fend for himself a long time ago, and they weren’t coming back. He went out and drank until he couldn’t remember his own name. Mingi had found him on the side of the road, swaying slowly and singing along to music that wasn’t there. He only knew him distantly from school, but he had taken San home and let him sober up on his couch. San told him what had happened and Mingi offered him a job at his parents’ dance studio. The next day he walked home and packed up his things, Mingi picked him up in a car and drove him back to his place; he hadn’t been home since then. Mingi quietly convinced his parents to pay a bit more than they usually would, and San made the money he needed to cover his tuition. He stayed on Mingi’s couch, but that was it. He didn’t let them feed him, insisting he provide for his own meals. Mingi was loud and clingy as hell, but he gave San the space he needed to figure himself out. They matched well, and San soon considered him his best friend. He didn’t let anyone else near him.  _

_ They were heading to the same school in the fall, Mingi was going to study dance. Even though the school was in his city, he stayed in the freshman dorms, refusing to live at home and not wanting to intrude anymore on Mingi’s hospitality. He tried his hand at the dating scene but found again and again that boys liked to use him for sex and dump him the next day. Everyone just kept leaving him, so he stopped expecting them to stay. _

_ Mingi had some decent friends at school, who San learned to like, and they decided to get an apartment together Sophomore year. Hook-ups came and left, and San just let it be. He stopped pining after the boys who kissed his neck and called him beautiful, stopped hoping that a quickie in the back of someone’s car would be more than just that. He stopped caring so much about what other people thought, he let himself open up to who he was and what he wanted. He went to parties and kissed all the boys he thought were pretty, he laughed loudly and flirted with everything with a heartbeat. He worked hard in school and earned himself a full scholarship for the next semester. He got a job making lattes at a coffee shop right off campus for some extra cash. He was cast in every school play and scored a commercial with a toothpaste company. He dyed his hair and wore red eyeshadow. He never called his parents. He made friends, but he never let himself feel like he needed them. He didn’t need anyone but himself. Everything was just fine. _

 

San turned off the water and pulled a towel around his waist. Everyone walked away from him, and he had taught himself not to care. Then why the fuck couldn’t he get that boy out of his head?

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud yell from down the hall, it was Seonghwa. 

“Jesus, Mingi get off my fucking bed, you shit!” San couldn’t help but smile, Mingi had come over early. He heard the tall boy’s unmistakable guffaw, and what sounded like Seonghwa shoving him against a wall. When San exited the bathroom, he found a rumpled Seonghwa being absolutely smothered in Mingi’s arms, eyes burning with rage. San snickered but took pity on his hyung. “Lay off him, Mingi,” San said fondly. Mingi released him, and San walked towards them, heading to his room. Mingi grinned guiltily at Seonghwa, who still stood there, quietly seething, before following San. Mingi collapsed on San’s bed, grabbing Shiber- San’s most beloved plushie- from the end. San turned around to face Mingi, pulling on a pair of clean sweats.

“You’re here early,” he said to Mingi, who was now tossing Shiber up and down. “Hey, be nice,” San snatched Shiber out of the air and placed him gently on the shelf above his bed. 

Mingi sat up, bouncing lightly on the mattress. He was always fucking moving, like someone was continuously spiking his morning banana milk with six packs of Redbull. San kicked his leg before falling beside him on the bed. He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his wet hair.

Mingi looked at San and poked him in the ribs. “What’s up, Hyung?” 

San swiped Mingi’s hand away and wrapped his arms around his pillow. “Dude, you’ve got to stop wrecking Seonghwa Hyung’s room.” He looked up at Mingi, who was trying to hold in a grin. 

“Yeah, I probably should,” he leaned his head to the side thoughtfully before breaking into a face-splitting smile. “But it’s really fucking funny.” 

San grinned, shifting his shoulders to make himself more comfortable, “yeah, it kind of is.”

Mingi flung himself back, head hitting the mattress next to San. “Hey, are you planning on working at the studio over break? You know my parents would love to have you. And you don’t even need to stay by me, it’s close enough to campus that you can stay here.” 

“I don’t know, that would be nice.” He turned his head to face Mingi, “but don’t you want to do something different? Go somewhere, see something new?” 

Mingi shrugged, “yeah, I guess that would be cool…” he trailed off, “I guess I’m just not used to change.”   
“What are you afraid of?” San asked teasingly.

“Who the fuck said I was afraid?” Mingi sat up defiantly. “I haven’t been afraid of anything since the day I was born.”

San raised his eyebrows, then lunged at Mingi, who yelped and jumped backward. San laughed, and Mingi grinned in defeat. 

“Maybe we _ should _ do something different,” Mingi shrugged.

“Yeah…” San thought about the way his mind kept drifting to the boy who had kissed him and then cried himself to sleep on his chest. “Maybe change isn’t such a bad thing.” 

Then he whopped Mingi across the head with his pillow. 

 

. . .

 

San went running with Jongho every morning for the rest of the week. They took a different route each time, and yet, somehow, they always ended up at the skatepark.  It was always empty. And San always noticed.

  
  



	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I shouldn’t be in your head.”
> 
> “You do realize you made that kind of impossible, right?” San grinned up at him.
> 
> we love banter and hot boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID i SAY CHAPTER SIX TOMORROW OR DID i SAY CHAPTER SIX TOMORROW ?  
> anywayyyy tomorrow is RIGHT NOW cuties !!!  
> i really really love this chapter, i hope y'all do too.  
> FINALLY SOME SANGSAN ACTION
> 
> COMMENTS AND KUDOS MAKE MY LIFE WORTH LIVING.  
> THANK YOU FOREVER FOR READING

Yeosang was religiously boycotting the skatepark. He did not, under any circumstances, want to run into San again. Why would he even try to talk to him? Wasn’t there some sort of unspoken rule about avoiding boys who had cried on your chest at all costs?

Not skating was killing him. Yeosang had gone back to the skatepark the morning after he saw San there. He’d hidden in the bushes and waited quietly to see if San would come back. He did.  _ That fucker.  _ He had already given boarding up for a week so he could focus on his midterms, and now that they were over, there was a narcissistic pretty-boy haunting the ramps. Fuck everything. 

He had taken to skating up and down the hallway of his dorm building, and understandably, people were getting tired of it.  

“Hey, Sangie,” Yunho stuck his head out into the hallway.

Yeosang hopped off his board, stopping it with his foot. “Yep?”

“Would you kindly explain to me what’s so attractive about a carpeted hallway to you?”

“How smooth the ride is,” Yeosang said sarcastically.

“Jesus, Hyung, you’re still cruising the halls?” Wooyoung exited the elevators, making his way towards Yeosang and punching him in the shoulder. He walked past him and Yunho and slipped into their dorm room. Yunho raised his eyebrows, Yeosang only shrugged and went to follow Wooyoung inside. Before he could even step into the dorm room, Wooyoung was already walking back into the hallway. He threw a jacket at Yeosang and grabbed his arm, pulling him down the hallway. 

Yeosang stumbled after him, “where are we going?” 

“To the skatepark,” Wooyoung said matter-of-factly. 

Yeosang pulled back, “No no no no no.” He dug his feet into the carpet, trying to detach himself from Wooyoung’s grip. “Jesus, you’re strong,” he grunted.

The doors of the elevator slid open and Wooyoung dragged him inside. Yeosang stood there, arms crossed, glaring at Wooyoung. “I’m not going.”

“What the shit is going on that you can’t go to the skatepark?” Wooyoung asked, concerned.

“Fresh air gives me a headache.” Yeosang snarked. 

Wooyoung raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. 

Yeosang sighed, “I’m just not in the mood of seeing humans right now, or ever.”

“Dude, literally no one goes to the skatepark anymore, not since the school banned graffiti.”

“I’m not going. I will handcuff myself to the side of this building if I must.”

“Where are you going to get handcuffs, Hyung?”

Yeosang just winked. 

“Gross,” Wooyoung made a gagging noise.

“Hey, don’t kink-shame me you little shit.”

The elevator reached the lobby and the doors slid open, Yeosang stayed put. Wooyoung sighed and held the door with his hand.

“Yeosang, I know you’re dying to get back to the ramps.”

“Nope.”

“I promise I’ll beat up anyone who tries to talk to you.”

“You couldn’t beat someone up.”

“True,” Wooyoung said, pouting. “I can ask them politely to leave us the frick alone.”

Yeosang grinned, “fine, let’s go.”

 

. . .

 

“Wooyoung!” Yeosang yelled from the top of a ramp.

Wooyoung looked up from where he was spread out on the grass, reading book for his literature class. “What’s up, Hyung?” 

“I fucking love you!” Yeosang was grinning wildly. “Thank You!” He pushed off and skated down the ramp, the wind blowing through his hair and whipping his t-shirt.

Wooyoung smiled with all of his teeth, “I know.”

December worked hard, but the sun worked harder. Yeosang had left his jacket next to Wooyoung who had immediately taken it and stuffed it under his head as a pillow. It was Sunday and neither of them had extra-curricular responsibilities. Yeosang was content to spend the entire day shredding the ramps, and Wooyoung was content to sit on his ass and watch him; as long as he didn’t get hungry, which he did. 

“Hyung?”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to get food, I’m freaking famished.”

“Chicken?”

“Yeah, I can get chicken.”

Yeosang shot some finger guns towards Wooyoung supportively and hit the pavement.

  
  


. . .

 

Wooyoung took a long time getting the food. By the time he got back, Yeosang was tired of skating and had plopped himself on the grass, head resting on his board.

“That seems unhygienic,” Wooyoung said over Yeosang.

Yeosang opened his eyes, squinting up at Wooyoung, whose hands were gripping a bag of chicken and a drink carrier. “Well that took for-fucking-ever,” Yeosang sat up and grabbed at the bag. 

Wooyoung settled gently beside him, handing him a pair of chopsticks. 

“Half sauce, half fried,” Yeosang smiled at the chicken. “You did well.”

Wooyoung ripped into a leg, “You’re welcome,” bits of meat flew out of his mouth.

They sat in silence, scarfing down chicken and sipping from the soft drinks Wooyoung had picked. Yeosang’s elbows rested on his knees and he surveyed the park, it was quiet. He closed his eyes. 

Wooyoung’s high pitched voice broke the silence, his elbow jabbing into Yeosang’s side. 

“Cute boy, incoming.”

Yeosang’s eyes flew open, and fell on San, striding towards them. He wore tight black jeans and a dark green button down, hanging open at the neck. Yeosang stood up quickly, knocking over his can of Sprite. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He muttered under his breath. He grabbed Wooyoung’s elbow, hauling him up beside him, “Let’s go, Woo.”

Wooyoung looked at him, confused. “What the heck, dude? He’s hot!”

Yeosang tried to drag him away, but San sped up and grabbed Yeosang’s arm.

“Hey, hey, don’t run away again,” he pouted, “please?”

Yeosang stepped back, and San dropped his arm. He glared at him.

Wooyoung looked back and forth between the two boys having a literal stare down beside him. “Huh?” He nudged Yeosang. “You know him?”

San dropped Yeosang’s gaze and turned to Wooyoung, offering his hand. “Hey, sorry, I’m San.”

Wooyoung gripped San’s hand, his confusion falling away to a bright smile, “Wooyoung!” 

“Nice to meet you, Wooyoung.” San beamed at him, and Wooyoung practically giggled.

“Are you single?” Wooyoung blurted, instantly turning red, “sorry, I don’t know why…” he trailed off.

Yeosang rolled his eyes and brought a hand up to his forehead, “Jesus Christ, Wooyoung, seriously?”

San laughed good-naturedly, “don’t worry,” he turned to meet Yeosang’s eyes, “yeah, I’m single,” he winked. 

Yeosang shook his head, completely unamused. 

Wooyoung nodded, trying to seem uninterested, “Cool,” he failed miserably.

San turned back to Wooyoung, gesturing at him and Yeosang, “so, are you two dating?”

Yeosang scrunched his forehead and Wooyoung gagged outwardly, it was wholly unflattering.

“Us?” Wooyoung shoved Yeosang away from him, shaking his hands at him like he was a mosquito. “No, nope. We are not dating. At all. Totally single.” He composed himself, “and ready to mingle?” he added hopefully. Yeosang bit his cheek, he was ready to fight someone. 

San smiled, “both of you?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung paused, “Yeosang you’re single right? I mean, last week you had hickies and-”

Yeosang kicked Wooyoung in the shin, “Shut the fuck up, Wooyoung,” he looked up.

San looked like someone had just handed him a million dollars. “Hickeys,  _ Yeosang _ ?” His voice slowed and purred when he said his name like he was testing every syllable on his tongue. “Must not be, then.”

Yeosang looked like he was trying to burn holes through San with his eyes. “Yeah,” he answered, voice low, “I’m single. And not interested.”

San only grinned at him. “Sure.”

Wooyoung stood up, hand clutching his shin. “Wait, how do you two know each other?”

Yeosang flicked his eyes up to San’s, widening them, slightly shaking his head, just in case the dude tried to expose him. San caught his movement and took a breath, “Um, we met at a party last week. We were having a great conversation,” he winked at Yeosang, “but he left before I caught his name.”

Yeosang nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it was nothing.”

“Nothing?” San raised his eyebrows.

Yeosang’s back straightened, “I honestly don’t even remember what we spoke about.”

“Huh,” San licked his lips, “I could always remind you.”

“I’m really good, thanks,” his voice was a growl.

Wooyoung cleared his throat, feeling incredibly left out of whatever the hell was happening between Yeosang and San. 

“Great story guys,” his excitement only a tad bit over the top, “San, you should come over to Yeosang’s sometime.” 

Yeosang and San both turned towards Wooyoung, equally confused. 

Yeosang groaned, “What the fuck, Wooyoung?” at the same time San said: “Sure, that’d be awesome.”

Yeosang couldn’t decide who he should glare at, so he settled for putting his face in his hands and rubbing his temples.

Wooyoung beamed at San, and San beamed right back. Yeosang wanted to vomit. 

Apparently, Wooyoung wasn’t done being completely embarrassing, because he continued by shamelessly blurting, “Awesome, can I have your number?”

Yeosang walked away, unable to handle Wooyoung or San for another minute. He could hear them exchanging phone numbers and promising to be in touch. A moment later, Wooyoung joined him at his side. 

“He left?” Yeosang asked, realizing San wasn’t with them. 

“Yeah, he said he had to get back to his dorm… Homework or something.”

“Cool,” Yeosang said, uninterested. He peeked over his shoulder to watch him strolling away, his shoulders strong, stride confident. San turned, meeting Yeosang’s eyes, and grinning mischievously. He lifted an arm and gave Yeosang a quick salute, winking as he spun back around and walked on.  _ Asshole.  _

“Hey, Hyung,” Wooyoung prodded, and Yeosang returned his attention to the blonde.

“So much for ‘politely asking them to leave us the frick alone’, Woo,” Yeosang said accusingly.

“Sorry, Hyung. I saw how pretty he was and my brain kind of broke.”

“I noticed.”

“So, about that…” Wooyoung looked at Yeosang. “You’re not into him right?”

Yeosang glared at Wooyoung, “Not in the slightest.”

Wooyoung’s lip quirked upwards, “So if I wanted to-”

“He’s all yours Wooyoung, go crazy,” he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

Wooyoung fist pumped the air, not even attempting to keep his excitement under wraps.

“Cool, ‘cause he’s hot as fuck.”

“Sure,” Yeosang answered in a monotone. 

Wooyoung skipped the rest of the way home. 

 

. . .

 

Yeosang was eager to push the events of that afternoon from his mind, and thankfully, what he came home to was enough to make him forget. Yunho and Hongjoong were spread out across the tiny,  _ tiny _ linoleum floor of the kitchen, surrounded by piles of clothing and paint.

“Hongjoong Hyung!” Yeosang said in mock excitement, “what the fuck happened to your glorious studio apartment that you’re doing arts and crafts on the floor of  _ my _ kitchen?” He smiled, but only with his mouth.

“Sangie, darling” Yunho said, “it’s my kitchen too.”

The two of them continued to paint, singing loudly to Zico. 

“Okay, fair,” Yeosang continued, “but that doesn’t explain why you couldn’t have gone to Hyung’s apartment to ruin your clothing.”

“It wasn’t giving me the aesthetic I needed,” Honjoong said thoughtfully, “and I’ll forgive you for insinuating we’re ruining our clothing.”

“I never apologized for saying so.”

“Well, that’s alright, it’s obvious you just don’t understand the exact art of re-pizzazing old clothes.” 

“Apparently not,” Yeosang said, bored. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was too hyped up from having been on the ramps earlier to pick a fight.

Yunho smiled at his roommate, “don’t worry Sangie, we’ll be done soon.” He twisted around, groping around before pulling something from the pile of drying clothes behind him. He turned back to Yeosang, thrusting a pair splattered socks at him, “We made you socks.”

Yeosang reached out hesitantly before taking them. He turned them slowly, examining the… “art.” There were skateboards of every color covering the once white socks; they sort of looked like dicks. “Awesome, thanks Hyung.” 

Yunho flipped his hand like he was swatting a fly, “please, it’s nothing.”

Yeosang leaned against the counter and crossed his legs in front of him, watching his hyungs painting meticulously. Hongjoong was working on a jean jacket, painting a galaxy along the arms. Yunho’s project was a little less… inspired. He beckoned for Yeosang to join him on the floor and handed him a brush. He had a pair of black canvas shorts between his legs on which he drew a nine-square grid. He looked up at Yeosang and grinned, then painted a red “X” in the top right square, “your turn.” Yeosang smirked and added a green “O” to the middle space. 

They played again and again until every inch of the shorts were covered in colorful games of tic-tac-toe. They kept tallies of each win along the waistband; end score: Yunho: 9, Yeosang: 13, Cat’s Game: 4. 

“I swept that,” Yeosang exclaimed proudly, “loser makes dinner.”

Yunho laughed, “you certainly did.” He stood up, bowing deeply to Yeosang, “and what will you be having, Monsieur?”

“Surprise me.” Yeosang looked back at the tic-tac-toe shorts and Hongjoong scooted closer to look over his shoulder. 

“Well… I guess that’s art.” He patted Yeosang on the shoulder, “I’m proud of you, Sangie.”

 

. . . 

 

They moved the wet clothing to the bedroom so Yunho could use the kitchen. Hongjoong put on horrendous music and tied an apron around Yunho’s waist. The whole thing took way too long, but the two of them (mostly Yunho) managed to cook an exorbitant amount of food.  

Yeosang escaped to his room to play video games with Wooyoung and he was admittedly not doing as well as he had done at tic-tac-toe. Wooyoung put down the controller, rubbing his eyes.

“My head feels like it’s on fire, I need to tap out.”

Yeosang looked over at Wooyoung, “Okay.” He shut off the console.

“I should set the table.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks.”

Wooyoung slid off the bed and headed for the kitchen, he blew a kiss to Yeosang on the way out. Yeosang stretched, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. He scrolled through his playlists before settling on Rihanna and lifted his headphones over his head, pausing when he heard someone knocking at the front door. He sighed and tumbled out of bed, his legs getting tangled in the blankets. 

“I’ll get it,” he said into the air.

He walked lazily to the door and pulled it open. It was San. Yeosang closed it in his face. 

“Wooyoung!” Yeosang yelled.

Wooyoung slid into the hallway, socks gliding against the wood. “What’s up, Hyung?”

“What the  _ fuc _ k is he doing here?” Yeosang was trying to remain calm, he was doing a bad job. 

“Who? Oh!” Wooyoung lit up like a Christmas tree and ran towards the door. Yeosang scooted over, blocking the doorknob so Wooyoung couldn’t reach it.  

“No,” Yeosang said, putting a hand on Wooyoung’s chest. “Tell me why he’s here.”

“Hyung, you were literally there when I invited him.”

“When you said ‘you should come over sometime’ I was not under the impression that you meant  _ tonight! _ ” Yeosang’s was trying to whisper, but his angry yelling was getting in the way. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you, I just… I really want to kiss him, okay?” Wooyoung pouted, batting his eyes at Yeosang.

“Stop doing that, it’s gross,” Yeosang said.

“Um-” They heard San through the door, “Should I leave?”

“No!” Wooyoung exclaimed, shoving Yeosang over and whipping open the door. San looked up at the two boys; they wore opposite expressions. Yeosang sighed and walked into the kitchen.

 

. . .

 

Yunho rang the dinner bell (literally- a gift from Hongjoong), and swung out of the kitchen carrying a heaping plate of food. The table was too small to fit all of them, so Hongjoong, ever the improviser, went to get one of Yunho’s flat sheets to create a makeshift picnic on the kitchen floor. Yeosang did his best to squeeze himself into a corner, dragging Yunho and Hongjoong down next to him. San settled down across from Yeosang, tucking his legs underneath him. He smiled gently, “hi,” he mouthed. Yeosang turned away, grabbing a bowl and filling it, San wanted his attention and Yeosang was excellent at not giving it to him. Wooyoung plunked himself down next to San, almost falling in his lap before thrusting a bowl into his hand. 

Yunho was just as excited as Wooyoung about San’s presence, essentially beginning an interrogation which San was more than happy to participate in. Yeosang sat silently, letting his mind drift in and out of the conversation. He focused on his food, only catching bits and pieces of the discussion. It almost bothered Yeosang, the way San seemed to get along so seamlessly with his friends. How quickly he began cracking jokes, letting out large shrieks of laughter, eerily similar to Wooyoung’s. San knew Hongjoong through a mutual friend and freaked out a bit when he found out Yunho was a dance major, insisting he had a friend who Yunho would love. Wooyoung kept putting his hand on San’s knee, and San let him. Yeosang felt a little left out. 

Eventually, the conversation turned to midterms, and Yeosang groaned inwardly. He wished everyone would stop talking about school. He understood it occupied the majority of everyone’s time and brain space, but it made him feel all twisted up inside. There was so much life outside of the classroom, yet it was like everyone insisted on bringing it with them, attaching it to themselves like it was their middle name. He hated it.

He spoke up for the first time that evening, “Do we have to talk about school?” He meant for it to sound casual, but it came out all twisted and angry. He was left in silence. Everyone turned to look at him, their faces all said something very loud- he felt unwanted.

Yeosang got up quietly, careful not to knock anything over, “I’m just gonna go-” 

“Wait, Hyung,” Wooyoung tried to pull him back, but he was already gone.

“Just let him be, Woo,” Yunho said softly, “he’s tired.”

 

. . .

 

Yeosang sank onto his bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He rested his chin on his forearms, drinking in the silence. God, why did he have to be so angry all the time? His eyes wandered, falling on the jacket Hongjoong had painted earlier, the stars bright in contrast with the dark denim, his focus settling on the spaces between them. He felt a stutter in his chest and his throat burned, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He squeezed them shut, galaxies bursting across his eyelids. He saw the night sky, littered with billions of stars, glittering together like a cluster of diamonds. Funny, how they seemed to exist together like they’re only inches apart when in truth, they’re billions of miles away.

He thought he must look the same way; in a galaxy, surrounded by his friends- who meant everything to him- when in truth, he put so much distance between them, afraid of letting them into his mind, using cynicism as his armor. Ever since Hoshi, he really didn’t see how feelings were a good thing- they only made everything more difficult.

The door to the bedroom creaked open and Yeosang looked up, wiping his nose on his sleeve. San slipped in, closing the door softly behind him.   
“Hey,” he whispered, quickly taking in the room before focusing on Yeosang.

“What do you want?” Yeosang said, hiccuping slightly.

San walked over slowly, “is it okay if I sit?”

Yeosang shrugged, scooting over to make room on the comforter. San sat, bringing his legs up on to the mattress. 

Yeosang bit his lip, willing his tears to stop, San caught on and grinned sympathetically.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some basket case,” Yeosang said. He sniffled, “I just have a problem with my tear ducts.”

San laughed, “Sure, whatever you say man.”

Yeosang wanted to find him annoying, but all he felt was a deep exhaustion settling through him. He was tired of being alone, and he was grateful for the company; even though he thought San was kind of an ass. Said Ass was currently trying to make himself comfortable without making too much of a fuss, it wasn’t working. He shifted back and forth on his legs, trying to find a surface to lean on before realizing the wall was too far away to use as a backrest. It was a uselessly dramatic ordeal and Yeosang felt a bubble of laughter rolling around in his stomach. 

“Dude, seriously, stop. You’re making me nervous,” Yeosang nudged San with his leg, scooting up the bed until his back hit the wall. He beckoned for San to follow suit and handed him a pillow. 

“Thanks,” San wrapped his arms and legs around the pillow, leaning his head forward to lay on top. “So,” he cleared his throat, “Yeosang, huh?”

“Yep.”

“I called you Vampire Boy in my head.”

“That’s weird,” Yeosang side-eyed San, “I shouldn’t be in your head.”

“You do realize you made that kind of impossible, right?” He grinned up at him.

Yeosang sighed, regretting everything about that night, “Yeah,”

San snickered, “I don’t mind.”

“You should maybe forget everything that happened that night.”

“Why? It was nice.”

“Me jumping and then vomiting all over you was nice?”

“You didn’t vomit all over me, it was just over to the side of me.”

“Oh good, I feel less horrible now,” the sarcasm dripped from Yeosang’s voice.

“You know you’re a very good kisser considering you were completely smashed.” San knocked his shoulder against Yeosang’s. “I wonder if you’d be as good sober.”

“No thanks, San.”

San lit up, “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.”

Yeosang looked at him like he was crazy, shaking his head. “Weirdo.”

“Hey,” San pulled a face like Yeosang had just offended him deeply.

Yeosang snickered, leaning his head back against the wall and taking a deep breath. 

“Thanks by the way.”

San looked up, “For what?”

Yeosang breathed out slowly, “Um- for not letting it go too far.”

San looked at Yeosang softly, “Of course. I’m sure you’d do the same.”

Yeosang nodded thoughtfully.

“Besides-” San continued, “Petting your hair while you cried yourself to sleep was just as nice.”

In one motion Yeosang grabbed the pillow from beneath San’s arms and hit him swiftly in the head. San let out a yelp which turned into a high pitched cackle.

“Let’s not fucking talk about that either,” Yeosang growled.

San was still laughing, “Why? It was cute.”

“San-” Yeosang was serious, “please.”

San shut up, “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Yeosang didn’t say anything. San sat up straight, sticking his hand out to Yeosang, “Friends?”

Yeosang looked at his hand, and then up at his eyes, challenging him, “Acquaintances.”

“Sheesh,” San smirked, “okay then, I’ll see what I can do about that. Acquaintances.”

He grasped Yeosang’s hand firmly, and they shook. “For now,” San winked.

Yeosang rolled his eyes, “Can I have my arm back?”

San looked at their linked hands, contemplatively. He gave Yeosang’s fingers a small squeeze and let go.

“I like your friends, they’re pretty cool people.”

Yeosang looked at San, giving him a pained expression, “Does this mean you’re going to come back?”

San shrugged, smiling cheekily, “Only if you ask nicely.”

Yeosang groaned.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Yeosang called.

Wooyoung opened the door peeking his head inside. “Hey, there you are San!”

Yeosang raised his eyebrow.

“Oh, and Yeosang Hyung there  _ you _ are!”

“Real convincing, Woo.”

Wooyoung smiled apologetically, “What are you guys talking about?”

“Vampires,” San answered without missing a beat. Yeosang elbowed him.

Wooyoung looked confused, “Cool? Anyway, Hongjoong and I are heading out if you want to walk with us, San.”

“Yeah, sure! Thanks, Wooyoung.” San slid off the bed.

Wooyoung beamed.

“Goodnight, Hyung” Wooyoung said, throwing peace signs.

Yeosang threw some back, “Good night, Woo.” The younger boy walked out.

San turned around, “Goodnight, Yeosang,” He lifted his hand, making a finger heart.

“Get the fuck out,” Yeosang said.

San left the room giggling.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, Cuties !!!  
> Comments and Kudos mean everything to me <3
> 
> also this is a thing, so come say hi ?  
> https://curiouscat.me/djspookyjiiim


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everybody has horrible aim.
> 
> ...
> 
> “Woo?” Yeosang asked.
> 
> “Hi,” it wasn’t Wooyoung, “it’s San, Wooyoung fell asleep.”
> 
> Yeosang stayed silent, not knowing how to respond. How did San always find him like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my lovely friends,  
> i'm so so sorry for the time it took me to update. i really struggled with this chapter for unbeknownst reasons. i kept trying to write it and it never worked out in my favor, but i finally got it out of me so here we are.  
> the next chapter will be really fun, but i'm starting finals next week and i have a BTS concert on sunday so i don't know how soon i'll be able to update.  
> it means so much to me if you're still here. i promise as soon as i finish the semester (TWO WEEKS) i'll be updating way more often.  
> sending all my love, thank you so much for reading.  
> would love love LOVE if you said hi in the comments.  
> THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND FOR BEING THE BEST READERS EVER ILY.  
> ps sorry it's so short, i promise the next one will be longer :)  
> pps. i tried time stamping? it just helped me write this chapter. again, i struggled a lot with it.

There’s a very specific feeling that manifests in the last three weeks before winter break; it starts as a sigh and as the days creep by, becomes an insatiable craving for death. The University had collectively taken on a weight of impatience and expectation, one could feel the drag of time and feet trying to make it to the finish line. It didn’t help that the sun had finally lost the battle to nature. December had decided to act like December overnight, snow had covered the Campus, leaving everything white, the only pop of color coming from the oddly painted school buildings. It was, in most of the students’ opinions, hell. 

 

. . .

**8:47**

“Hyung, do you want to lose an ass cheek? You’re going to be fucking freezing.” Yeosang was warily eyeing Yunho’s outfit, a pair of jean shorts and the largest, mothiest sweater he had ever seen.

Yunho turned, looking himself up and down in the mirror, “It only takes five minutes to walk to class, besides, my ass looks great.”

“You look like a grandpa.”

“Ah, but a sexy grandpa.”

“You know how to get them, Hyung.” 

Yunho sighed contentedly, grabbing his bag and patting Yeosang on the cheek before walking out of their bedroom. Yeosang pursed his lips and walked to Yunho’s closet. It took him longer than it should have to find a coat amongst all of the clothing, he pulled it out and shook off the dust that had settled over the shoulders. Coughing, he swung it over his arm, shaking his head and mumbling something about being a mom before following Yunho out.

He met Yunho in the lobby. He was standing by the glass doors, hands crossed over his chest, shivering. Yeosang chuckled and threw the coat at Yunho.

“I fucking told you.”

Yunho pulled it on, buttoning it up, “Maybe,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, “But I still look sexy.”

“Mega-Sexy,” Yeosang said, matter-of-fact. He shoved the door open with his shoulder, wincing as the freezing air hit his face, “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late.”

 

. . .

 

**12:21**

Students weren’t the only ones desperate for winter break to arrive; every teacher was losing patience, half-assing their lessons and assigning ungraded busy work just because they could. Yeosang practically passed out trying to get through his first two classes, the words swimming in and out of his ears as his eyes wandered. He wanted to care about school, it was important for him to do well, but he needed a restart button, and two weeks without classes or exams was exactly that. Yunho was going home for break, meaning Yeosang would have the dorm to himself. He would probably starve, due to Yunho being the only person he knew who could cook, but he was excited to have his own space. He was ready to stay up all night and sleep all day, plus the gymnasium wouldn’t be in use, so he’d have the whole thing to himself for skateboarding. He really didn’t mind living with Yunho, in fact, it was nice to have someone around to share a space with, it made him feel at ease, a reminder that though he wasn’t interested in a relationship, he was still able to make space for others in his life. 

Yeosang sighed, blinking a few times to get his eyes to refocus. He swallowed, scanning the classroom before looking down at his paper where he had been doodling mindlessly.  _ Shit. Shit. Shit.  _ Yeosang dropped his pencil and ripped the page from his notebook, glancing around to make sure no one had seen. “Choi San” was written all over it. He smashed his hands together, crumpling the paper and shoving it deep into his bookbag. Yeosang shook his head as if he could shake San right out. He needed something else to focus on. Thankfully, his stomach yelled, rumbling painfully. He was starving. He picked up his pencil and started on a clean sheet of paper, sketching out a box of chicken. By the time the period was over, he had drawn a feast in obnoxious detail. The professor paused, class dismissed.  _ Fucking finally. _

 

. . .

 

**13:04**

Yeosang walked shoulder to shoulder with the hordes of students heading down to the cafeteria for lunch; he barely had to move, they just swept him along. When he got through the large double doors of the caf, he separated himself from the crowd, pushing himself flat against a wall and scanning the room. It wasn’t like you could pick people out of a crowd at an art school, everyone dressed and behaved pretty strangely, deeming them completely ordinary. He let out a little “Oh,” when he spotted Wooyoung standing on a table and waving at him table across the room. He plunged through the mass of students to join him. When he got there, Wooyoung was still standing on the table.

“You can sit down now, I’m here,” Yeosang said, emphasizing his presence with some jazz hands.

Wooyoung hopped off the table just as Yunho and Hongjoong arrived, dropping their bags from their shoulders and pushing their trays of food onto the table. 

“Ah, fuck,” Yeosang sighed, realizing he hadn’t even been in line for food yet.   
Yunho nudged Yeosang’s side, “Don’t worry, Sangie, we got you.” He tossed a chicken sandwich into Yeosang’s relieved face as Hongjoong slid a can of Sprite across the table. Yeosang caught the sandwich, but the can of Sprite flew off the table, exploding and drenching the floor. 

“Nice,” Yeosang said.

Yunho snickered and got up, “Good effort, Hyung, I’ll get towels.”

“Thank you,” Yeosang said earnestly, tugging at Yunho’s sleeve before he could escape. 

“Yee-Haw, Sangie.” 

Yeosang let go of Yunho’s arm in disgust, “Okay, leave.” Yunho twirled away, shaking his ass as he went.

“You call  _ that _ you’re best friend, Hyung?” Yeosang said pointedly to Hongjoong.

Hongjoong grinned, “You call that  _ you’re _ best friend?” He looked to the side of Yeosang.

Yeosang turned to look at Wooyoung, who was laughing so hard, the only sounds coming from him were too high pitched to be picked up by human ears.

He turned back to Hongjoong, whose eyes were twinkling happily, “Touch é .”

“Oh!” Hongjoong straightened, “Are you two coming to my party next week?”

Wooyoung composed himself incredibly quickly, “Hyung, you’re having a party?”

“Yes, It’s the only way I’ll make it to winter break.” He looked at Yeosang expectantly, “Well? Will you come?”

Yeosang raised an eyebrow, “You’re not having it at my apartment, are you Hyung?”

“No, my place. Next Thursday, be there or be a bitch.”

“Okay now.”

“I’m no bitch,” Wooyoung scoffed. “Who’s invited?”

“You two, Yunho…” He looked up suddenly, eyes catching on something behind the two boys, “Oh! And Seonghwa Hyung.”   
Yeosang and Wooyoung turned over their shoulder to see a tall, blonde boy standing there clutching a pile of sketchbooks and fabric pamphlets. He grinned down at them and jabbed his chin at the seat next to Yeosang.   
“Is it cool if I sit there? I’ll only be a minute.” His voice was deep, almost gravelly, but soft.

Yeosang nodded and bent forward so Seonghwa could squeeze around him. He sat, stretching a hand out to Yeosang and then Wooyoung, “I’m Seonghwa.” They exchanged howdiedos.

Hongjoong filled Seonghwa in about the party and Yunho returned with an armful of paper towels. Yeosang got up and helped him wipe up the Sprite, throwing the soggy paper towels in the trash. 

“Here,” Yunho pushed something into Yeosang’s chest. It was another can of Sprite.   
Yeosang laughed, “Thanks, Hyung.”

Yunho winked at him before rejoining the table. 

“Yunho! Wine and Cheese party at my place, next Thursday,” Hongjoong said quickly.

Any excitement on Wooyoung’s face dropped. 

“Wine and cheese?” He said softly, suddenly disappointed, Hongjoong didn’t hear him.

Yunho did, patting the blonde’s arm comfortingly, “Don’t worry, Wooyoung-ie, it will be great.”

Wooyoung sat pouting as the rest of them discussed details, sipping angrily at an apple juice box.

Eventually, Seonghwa got up, gathering his belongings. “Alright, I have to head back to my apartment, San is having some sort of crisis, and I need to make sure he doesn’t destroy the place.”   
Yeosang tried not to be obvious about his interest, Wooyoung.. wasn’t trying as hard.

“San? Choi San?” Wooyoung said eagerly.

“Yes…” 

“Oh hell, I love that dude,” He looked pleadingly at Seonghwa, “Do you think it’s cool if I come?”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, “Sure?”

Wooyoung beamed, grabbing his bag and sliding out from behind the table. “See y’all later.”

He bounded after Seonghwa.

“Wow,” Yeosang said, watching his best friend scamper out of the room. “He’s really just going to leave us like that? Weak.”

Yunho and Hongjoong laughed.

“He’s just whipped,” Hongjoong said, trying to be reassuring. “Don’t worry, you’re still his favorite.”   
“I’m not worried about me,” Yeosang said quietly.

 

. . .

 

**22:37**

The rest of the day moved like a foot in heavy water. It dragged on until the sun set and everything went dark. Yeosang felt a strange heaviness in his chest when the world turned quiet, leaving him with his thoughts. Whenever he felt the silence creeping in, he would grab his headphones and turn the music all the way up, chasing away any creeps of loneliness. It wasn’t that he felt lonely per say, it was more the fear of being left alone with his mind. Devastatingly, Wooyoung had borrowed his headphones earlier, leaving Yeosang without any means for escape.

He grabbed an apple from the kitchen and headed to his bedroom. Yunho had dance practice until late, so Yeosang had the apartment to himself. He kind of wished Yunho was home, his roommate was an excellent source of distraction. 

Dropping onto his bed, he tore into the apple with his teeth, pulling out his phone from his pocket and opening up Tumblr. He scrolled mindlessly, chewing slowly. He could feel his eyes glazing over, not really taking in anything passing across his screen. He dropped his phone and leaned up on his elbow, chucking the apple across the room to the trash bin. He missed. Sighing, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back on his pillow, flinging his arms up to cover his eyes. He brought his fingers to his temple, rubbing slow circles into his skin.

He didn’t understand why there was always an underlying feeling of sadness crawling beneath his exterior. It was as if any happiness he felt was only fleeting, like a flash of lightning in a rainstorm; strikingly bright and then gone, leaving only darkness and heavy rain. He wanted to drag the sadness out of his chest by its tail and smash it under his foot, tell it how it had no power over him and needed to fuck off. It wasn’t just sadness, it was an emptiness and a hopelessness he didn’t know how to fix. He didn’t even know where or when these feelings had started, only that he couldn’t find the end. He knew rationally that he had to do something about it; stop searching for happiness outside of himself, and stop trying to run away from his insides, but when he faced the prospect of healing, all he felt was an intense exhaustion, and he decided it would be easier to sleep until it was gone. But there was so much he had to do. His Art HIstory exam swam into mind.  _ Fuck.  _

Every emotion clotting his heart had gathered in the center of his chest. It felt like this: He’s breathing, but the breath won’t go all the way in. He can feel it sitting there, right below his sternum, in between his ribs, a cloudy warmth, like a pocket of air. It was so tight, he felt as if he might explode.    
He grabbed his phone from beside him and texted Wooyoung.

 

**hey. r u heading back? need my headphones, i’m fucking losing it.**

 

He brought his hands- still clutching his phone- to his belly. It rang. Wooyoung.

 

“Woo?” Yeosang asked.

“Hi,” it wasn’t Wooyoung. “It’s San, Wooyoung fell asleep.”

Yeosang stayed silent, not knowing how to respond. How did San always find him like this?   
“Yeosang, are you okay?” San was speaking so softly, his voice barely a whisper in Yeosang’s ear. “I saw your text, I know it’s not my place but…” He trailed off.

Silence. It was all too much.

“Yeosang? I need you to breathe. Can you do that? Just once, I want to hear you.”

Yeosang clutched the phone, his chest so tight it was ready to shatter, throwing everything he was barricading behind his ribs to the corners of the universe. 

“Sangie,” The nickname made Yeosang slide back into focus, “Breath.”

Yeosang slowly opened his mouth, letting a slow stream of air brush past his lips, into the speaker. He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath. 

“Good, Yeosang,” San said quickly, “again, I’ll do it with you.”

Yeosang closed his eyes, letting air in through his nostrils and out through his lips. He could hear San doing the same over the line. They sat there, breathing together for what seemed like forever. San’s breaths sounded muffled and shaky through the speaker, but they gave Yeosang something to hold on to, something to keep him from forgetting to take the next breath. 

Slowly, everything began to unravel, Yeosang felt the knot in his chest loosening, as if it had decided it had somewhere better to be, someone else to bother. His mind let go of his thoughts, emptying itself of the cloudiness that had filled it and replacing it with the sound of life. In and out, Oxygen and Carbon Dioxide, the two boys could hear only this: alive. 

Yeosang opened his eyes, still breathing, “San?”

“Mhm?”

“I think it’s okay now.”

“Okay,” Yeosang could hear San’s smile, “I’m glad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t be sorry, Yeosang.”

“Okay.”

“I promise you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“Okay, it’s just-”

“Nope,”

“Fine,” Yeosang sighed, rolling his shoulders and neck, reveling in the lightness that he felt. “Thank you, then.”

“You don’t need to say that either.”

“I want to.”

“Okay, well, thank you too, then.”

“For what?”

“Letting me be here,” he paused, “I thought you would hang up on me.”

“I thought I would too.”

San laughed at that, “Well I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“I’m not sure I did,” Yeosang said quietly, teasingly.

“Maybe I should hang up first then,” San’s smile was seeping through every word.

“Maybe you should.”

“Okay, then,” another pause, “Yeosang, I’m texting you my number. Please use it.”

“I probably won’t”

“I know, but I still want you to have it.”

“Will it make you feel better?”

“It would make feel absolutely marvelous.”

Yeosang snorted lightly, “Okay.”

“I’ll see you at Hongjoong Hyung’s party.”

“Oh,” Yeosang couldn’t decide what he felt about that,“Sure.”

“I’m gonna say good night… hang in there, Yeosang, I’ll wake Wooyoung and send him over.”

“Thanks, hey- I’m still sorry.” Yeosang hung up before San could get a word in.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, dear ones.  
> i promise i'll be back as soon as i can.  
> thank you forever for your patience and for reading.  
> i love you all!  
> don't be afraid to come say hi in the comments!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither of them knew what was supposed to happen next. Yeosang was usually indisposed or unprecedentedly hateful when they were together, so this was new. It wasn’t bad, but it was new. Yeosang wondered what was happening in San’s head. San wondered what was happening in Yeosang’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO MY BEAUTIES !!!  
> i'm back !!!  
> i'm so sorry it took so long for me to update, life got the best of me.  
> but summer break has started and i am ready to WORK on this fic.  
> thank you so much always for reading, it means everything to me.  
> i really hope you like the chapter, i know i do.  
> please let me know what you think in the comments, it's so helpful and makes my day every time.

There was nothing extraordinary about a Thursday afternoon. It didn’t change the way the sun moved over the trees or the way clouds whispered through the cerulean blue sky. There was still breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and there were still birds singing at the first hint of dawn. There was nothing extraordinary about a Thursday afternoon; unless it was the last day of classes before winter break and the clock had just struck five P.M.

When the doors of the school buildings swung open and students flooded through onto the grounds, the air they breathed was somehow different; it was almost as if their lungs had finally learned to open up fully, filling themselves to the brim with the sweet, sweet air of freedom.

Yeosang made his way across the campus, stopping quickly at the Art Building to drop off his final project with his professor. He dodged her questions about how the semester went, claiming he needed to pee, and she let him go with a shake of her head and a soft smile. As soon as he was out of her sight he broke into a sprint, careful to avoid the patches of ice on the sidewalk. The freezing wind hit his face and tears streamed from his eyes, his face splitting into a wild grin. His calves burned, and he felt the heat rising through his thighs and up to his chest. His heart beating wave after wave of euphoria through his veins, like he’d just been struck by lightning. The semester was over. That meant he had two weeks to do whatever the fuck he wanted, and the freedom to be the laziest human known to man. He had a drone and _would not_ hesitate to use it to bring his dinner from the kitchen to his bed. Lost in his state of happiness, he almost missed his dorm, having to backtrack a few feet before letting himself inside.

The warmth of his apartment enveloped him as if to say, “Hello, I’m happy you’re home.” Yeosang shrugged off his coat and bag, drying his shoes on the front carpet and practically skipped into the kitchen. He found Yunho standing by the counter, wearing only pineapple covered boxers and an apron, pouring chocolate chips into a bowl. Yeosang grinned, creeping over and attacking Yunho with a suffocatingly tight back hug.   
“Jeez Louise, Yeosang!” Yunho choked, pulling the younger boy off him and turning around. Yeosang launched himself at his roommate, wrapping his hands around his middle and burying his face into his chest. He was grinning like an idiot.

“Yeosang, are you ill?” Yunho gasped out, Yeosang’s grip making it hard to breathe.

“It’s over, it’s finally fucking over,” Yeosang mumbled happily into Yunho’s apron.

“Only for two weeks,” Yunho replied, chuckling as he tousled Yeosang’s hair.

“Shut the fuck up, don’t kill the mood.”

Yunho laughed outright at that. “I’m real glad you’re happy, Sangie, but you need to get off so I can finish these cookies.”

Yeosang lifted his head from Yunho’s chest, peeking around him to see what was happening on the counter. “What are you baking for?” He asked, taking a swipe of cookie batter from the bowl with his finger.

“Hey,” Yunho grabbed his wrist before he could steal another scoop. “I know you think you can get away with whatever you want when you’re smiling, but it ain’t true, bitch boy.”

Yunho fake glared Yeosang down, “Get out of my kitchen.”

Yeosang pouted, “Fine. But first, tell me why you’re baking like you’re trying to lure Hansel and Gretel to our apartment.”

Yunho looked at Yeosang quizzically, like he shouldn’t have to answer to the offensive amount of cookies he had laid out on baking sheets. “Hongjoong Hyung’s party is tonight, I’m bringing snacks.”

Yeosang’s mouth dropped open with a little “Oh.” He had forgotten.

 

. . .

 

Hongjoong video called Yeosang as he was finishing up in the bathroom.

“Go to a mirror and flip the camera,” Hongjoong demanded.

“Hello to you too, Hyung.” Yeosang rolled his eyes, slouching his way over to a full-length mirror in the hallway, flipping the camera so his whole body was visible.

“Thought so,” Hongjoong smirked from the screen, “Sangie, this is a wine and cheese party, not a ‘binge-play video games and shovel cheeseballs’ party.”

Yeosang sputtered, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” In his humble opinion, his oversized yellow sweater and pilled sweatpants were perfectly reasonable attire for eating hunks of cheese off a wooden board.

Yeosang watched Hongjoong bring his hand up to rub his temples, “Kang Yeosang, if you are not wearing proper pants in five minutes, you’re uninvited. Go show us what a classy bitch you can be.”

Yeosang groaned and made a face at Hongjoong, “Fine, but you should know the only reason I’m coming is so I can sit on your bean bag chair.”

“Rude.”

Yeosang stuck his tongue out at the screen and hung up.

A pair of black skinny jeans, a turtleneck and a swipe of eyeshadow later, Yeosang decided he had reached his limit for “classy bitch.”

Wooyoung had shown up, dressed in a blazer and tie- _“Seriously, Woo?” “I’m trying to be authentic, Hyung.”_ \- to help Yunho and Yeosang carry the six trays of cookies Yunho had pumped out over to Hongjoong’s.

Hongjoong was an asshole, which roughly translated into him having decided to move into a fifth-floor studio apartment in a building that did not have an elevator. When the three of them reached the door to the apartment, they were all sweating like overfed pigs. Wooyoung was the worst off of the three and Yeosang had to lunge and grab the tray of cookies from him before he collapsed on the floor, crumpling his perfectly pressed blazer.

Yunho knocked his knee against the door, and soon after it was swung open by a beaming Hongjoong. Yeosang’s mouth fell open. The proud host was wearing a three-piece suit, complete with matching bow-tie and a drooping pearl earring on his left ear.

“What is this, the opera?” Yeosang said incredulously, looking Hongjoong up and down. He had to commend his commitment to staying on theme. Hongjoong laughed good-naturedly- it went “Ha. Ha. Ha,” making him sound like a conceited ass- and gestured them all inside. He was taking his role as the “artsy one” and tip-toeing the line of “too far” in Yeosang’s opinion, but it was all incredibly entertaining so he let it be. Yunho looked like a child in a candy store, his eyes shining with excitement as he took in the extents Hongjoong had gone for the party. Yeosang shook his head at his two Hyungs and their love of being exceedingly extra.

As Yeosang stepped over the threshold and into the apartment, Hongjoong looked him over and gave him a satisfied nod. Classy Bitch, achieved. Yeosang grinned and stepped into the studio apartment Hongjoong was renting. Being that Hongjoong was poor as fuck, choosing to spend his money on clothing, paint and studio time, the place was practically empty. There was a small, pretty much unused kitchen, which led to an empty living room, save for a giant bean bag chair, which was hellishly comfortable and impossible to leave once occupied. Hongjoong’s bed was in the corner, a lumpy mattress on the floor, covers strewn across the base of it. The only expensive thing in the apartment was a gorgeous walnut table Wooyoung had donated, after insisting his parents were getting rid of it anyway, and begging Joong to take it. Hongjoong had agreed but demanded to cover the transportation fees. Wooyoung had been satisfied. There was a cluster of mismatched chairs against the wall which Yunho and Hongjoong had collected over the course of a few months from yard sales and dumpsters, each repainted a different color by Hongjoong.

It was hard to be upset at how extra Hongjoong was with how beautifully he had set up the party. The lights in the room were dimmed and there were candles on the wooden table, creating a warm, golden light in the room. He had an assortment of tall stemmed glasses in a circle around an impressive selection of wines, some dry, some sweet and some somewhere in between. There was a plate of thick, buttery crackers to accompany the largest cheese board Yeosang had ever seen. It was laden with nuts, grapes and an incredibly varied collection of cheese.  He figured Hongjoong had been saving up for months in order to pull it off, it was exquisite and impressive, much like Hongjoong himself. Yeosang felt a bit sad that all of Joong’s hard work was being catered to himself and whoever else had been invited; not many could remain classy when offered a hunk of gouda. He said a little prayer for the cheese, it deserved better.

It was quiet. Hongjoong and Yunho were busy arranging the cookies into ridiculous mounds and Wooyoung was still trying to breathe through the cramp he had gotten walking up the stairs. Yeosang hunkered down in the giant bean bag chair across the room, it was big enough for two, but he spread himself out, sinking into the plush comfort. He still felt sporadic rushes of happiness, but time had worn off most of the euphoria, leaving him just so, existing in a space of “content.” Strangers and parties weren’t his favorite thing, but he oddly didn’t feel his usual urge to fight someone. Yeosang let his guard down and the nerves sunk in, he acknowledged them and then told them to fuck right off, nothing was going to dampen his mood.

  


. . .

 

Twenty minutes later, Yeosang was abruptly jerked from his accidental nap (the beanbag chair was hella comfortable) by Wooyoung snapping in his ear. He opened his eyes to a full room and sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes. He scanned the apartment, recognizing Hongjoong’s friend Seonghwa who was dressed in a grey suit, holding a glass of wine in one hand and a girl’s waist with the other. There were quite a few people he didn’t know, but they all looked incredibly happy to be there. The cheese was going fast and the room was laced with the sounds of clinking glasses and conversation. Hongjoong had quite the collection of friends and they had all shown up dressed right on theme, one of them was even wearing a tux, complete with tails.

“Jesus,” Yeosang muttered, a little in awe of their dedication.

“Nice to meet you, Jesus, I’m Yunho.” Yeosang jumped, not having noticed Yunho creep up on him. Yunho grinned and held out a plate of cheese, crackers, and cookies along with a wine glass filled with a dark liquid.

“You looked comfortable.” Yunho paused thoughtfully, “And terrified, so I brought you some snacks.”

Yeosang reached up and took the food and drink from Yunho gratefully, looking at the brown liquid swirling around the wine glass before scrunching his nose.

“What the fuck kind of wine is Hyung serving?”

Yunho patted Yeosang gently on the shoulder. “That’s Cola, bud.”

“Oh, thank god. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I wasn’t exactly ready to die yet.”

The two boys were interrupted by a loud groan from the corner.

“How was I supposed to know they only served wine and cheese at wine and cheese parties?”

“Wow,” Yeosang whispered to Yunho, “That’s a big dude.” gesturing to the source of the complaint.

“I deadass told you to eat before we came, Mingi. What were you expecting, kimbap?” Yeosang’s breath hitched in his throat. That was San. They hadn’t spoken at all since Yeosang’s panic attack and he didn’t exactly want to rehash it now. He sunk deeper into the beanbag chair; as long as the dark-haired boy didn’t notice him he would be fine. But Yunho had other plans,

he had sensed an emergency, and rescue was imminent. “Hey man, don’t worry. I made cookies.”

Mingi and San turned to look at Yunho, who had the smile of a man who just saved a village of starving children on his face.

The giant boy across the room’s face lit up, “Who are you?”

“I’m Yunho,” Yunho answered proudly, grabbing Yeosang’s cookie filled plate from him and holding it out to the tall boy. Yeosang lifted his arms in disbelief, “Really, Yunho?”

“Oh hush, Sangie I’ll get you more cookies.”

“Wow,” the hungry giant (as Yeosang had since dubbed him) said, “I’m Mingi. You’re my hero.”

Yunho practically took flight at that, flashing every single one of his teeth at Mingi.

“Try one.”

Mingi took a chocolate chip cookie and bit into it, the chocolate still warm and melty. He let out another groan, deep and guttural, it was almost pornographic.

“Fuuuck, that’s insane. You made that? Shit, man.”

Yunho was floating five inches off the ground at that point, tears of happiness threatening to spill out of his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Yunho blurted, “There’s a convenience store down the street that has the _best_ pork strips, it’s on me.”

Yeosang looked between the two boys, who were both flushed with excitement. What were they, fucking soulmates? Gross.

“Yeah, Yes! I do, let’s go,” Mingi giggled.

Yunho reached out his hand and Mingi grabbed it, following Yunho through the crowd and out the front door.

Yeosang sighed, “He never brought me more cookies.”

Someone snickered next to him, “I’m sorry. Also, what the fuck was that?”

Yeosang brought his eyes to meet San’s, unsure of what to think. He decided not thinking at all was his best option.

“I have no idea,” Yeosang trailed off, taking a sip of Cola from his wine glass.

It was San’s turn to scrunch his nose, “Dude, wine isn’t supposed to look like that, you’re going to die.”

“It’s Cola.”

“There’s Cola here?” San spun around, looking for a bottle, he didn’t find one.

“Yunho gave it to me, I don’t know where he found it. Honestly, he probably brought it in a hip flask or something. Here, you can have some of mine.” Yeosang handed his glass to San, who took it hesitantly.

Yeosang nodded encouragingly, and San sipped. Neither of them knew what was supposed to happen next. Yeosang was usually indisposed or unprecedentedly hateful when they were together, so this was new. It wasn’t bad, but it was new. Yeosang wondered what was happening in San’s head. San wondered what was happening in Yeosang’s.

San broke the silence, “When’s your birthday?”

“June 15th.”

“What year?”

“Ninety-nine, what about you?”

“July 10th, also ninety-nine. Do you want me to call you Hyung?”

“No,” Yeosang hesitated, but then remembered he was trying not to think too much. “I mean, I almost sucked your dick, and then I cried on your shoulder, so.. No.”

San blushed and coughed into the Cola. Confident, smooth, impenetrable San, blushed. Yeosang tried not to let his smirk show.

“Sounds reasonable,” San replied, trying to keep his composure.

“I’m kidding, I’m barely a month older than you. Honestly, I don’t know why Wooyoung calls me Hyung either.”

“Did you almost suck his dick?” Confident San was back.

“No dude, he’s like my brother. I’d do anything for him, but I haven’t sucked his dick, no.”

San seemed content with that answer. “How did you meet?”

“Wooyoung and I?”

San nodded.

“Um, I don’t remember honestly. We’ve always known each other I guess, I practically grew up in his house. He’s a good kid, loyal as fuck.”

San shrugged as if to say “How so?”

“I can’t even list all the ways he would do anything for the people he loves. He followed me here, the little shit.” Yeosang shook his head fondly. “He shouldn’t have. He had a spot in a great college in America, he didn’t really know what he wanted to do, but he’s smart as hell and his parents could afford it. I was going to go as well, but I couldn’t pay for it, so I decided to come here. When I told him, Woo declined his spot in America and told me he’s coming with me. That’s how he’s always been, always putting others first, nothing is more important to him than that.”

“Wow,” San said softly. “That’s insane. You’re really lucky to have a friend like him.”

“Yep.”

“I guess Mingi’s as close to that as I have. He practically gave university to me, I wouldn’t be here without him.”

“What happened?”

San shook his head, he didn’t want to talk about it. “Life”

Yeosang understood, not everything had to be said in words. He wondered what could have happened to San, maybe it could explain why he acted the way he did. But he wasn’t going to push it, that much he could give him.

“He looked like a nice dude.”  
“He is. Loud as hell and a pain in my ass, but the best guy I know. Who’d he run off with?”

“Ah, that would be my roommate Yunho.”

“Is he always that-”

Yeosang cut him off, “Fairy Godmother-like? Yep.”

Suddenly, Wooyoung was there, a blur of blonde hair and blazer. “Hyung!” Yeosang looked pointedly towards San at that, who grinned.

“It’s really over! We’re free men!” Woo spotted a girl sitting on Hongjoong’s bed out of the corner of his eye, “And women!”

Yeosang smiled up at his friend. It was true, they really were.

“Hi, San!” Wooyoung pulled San into a crushing hug.

“What’s up, Woo? Having fun?”

“Yes!” Wooyoung practically yelled. “I totally thought this party was gonna be a bust, but I found this one cheese and I think I’m in love.”

“Looks like you also found the wine,” Yeosang said through a laugh.

Wooyoung nodded, “I feel excellent. I have a flight in six hours and I haven’t packed yet, and guess what? I don’t even care.” He let out a shriek of happiness, clapping his hands as if the prospect of living his life so on the edge was thrilling.

“Jeez, you’re a lightweight. I’ll help you pack later.” Yeosang said.

“Thanks, Hyung.” Wooyoung kissed Yeosang on the cheek then shoved him, making room for himself before plopping down on the beanbag chair. Yeosang grunted, but wrapped an arm around Wooyoung’s waist, holding him tightly.

San smiled at the two of them, turning to Yeosang. “What are you doing for winter break? Are you going with Wooyoung?”

“No, I’m staying here.”

“I did offer him to come with me,” Wooyoung said matter-of-factly. “My family is going to Japan, we have plenty of space in our cabin there.”

“He did offer, but I have an Art History exam I have to stay and make-up. It’s the only way my professor will pass me.” Yeosang wasn’t upset about it, he was grateful his professor was giving him a chance to make it up in the first place.

“I could help you with that if you want,” San said. “Professor Mun’s class?”

Yeosang nodded.

“Yeah, I took it last semester and I did well, actually. I’m going to be here during break, I don’t mind studying with you.”

Wooyoung looked at San, confused. “I thought you said you were going home with Jongho.”

“No,” San said quickly, “I’m not. I’m staying here, I just decided actually. Uh, I’m going to be helping out at Mingi’s parents’ dance studio.”

Wooyoung didn’t look convinced, but whatever he was pretty drunk.

“Thanks, that’s really cool of you to offer, but I’ll be okay.” Yeosang thought San seemed like a decent guy, but he didn’t know if he wanted to be spending large amounts of time with him. He still wasn’t sure where they stood, and he was afraid of doing something he’d regret. It was already clear that Yeosang had trouble keeping himself together around the younger boy.

Wooyoung nudged Yeosang, “Why? You were telling me yesterday that you wished you had someone to study- _oof_.” Yeosang dug his fingers into Wooyoung’s side, shutting him up.

“I’ll be fine, but thanks.” Yeosang tried to smile, it looked closer to severe constipation.

“Well, if you change your mind you have my number.” San raised an eyebrow, “Unless you didn’t save it?”

“I saved it,” Yeosang assured him.

San broke into a smile, “Good, so text me if you need me.”

“Sure.”

A loud yell came from the center of the room, Yunho and Mingi were back. Apparently, it had been discovered that they were both dance majors, and the two of them were now participating in the friendliest dance battle any of the guests had ever seen. Needless to say, the “classy” factor of the party had gone out the window. Someone turned on _Baby Don’t Stop_ and Yeosang watched the two tall boys jump straight into the choreography, cheering each other on and laughing loudly when they crashed into each other, immediate, senseless grinding ensuing. Yeosang groaned and covered his eyes, reminded of the cheese and how it deserved better.

Wooyoung left Yeosang and went to grab Hongjoong, pulling him onto the “dance floor” and grinding his hips against him. Hongjoong tried to pull away, complaining that his three-piece-suit was delicate, but Seonghwa stepped in and smacked the smaller boy’s ass, insisting he “Stop being pretty and go have a good time.”

The grinding got old after a bit and the guests started to trickle out, hugging Hongjoong goodbye and thanking him for the good time. There were flights to catch and people to kiss and the Yunho/Mingi lovefest happening in the middle of the living room was getting distracting. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were piled on top of each other, drunkenly arguing over who was more beautiful. Seonghwa’s girlfriend sat beside him, looking bored. Wooyoung had passed out clutching a plate of cheese, much to Yeosang’s dismay. San came over and helped him nudge Wooyoung awake.  
“We have to go pack, Woo. You’re leaving for the airport in a couple of hours.”

Wooyoung mumbled something about staying at Hongjoong’s and vacationing with the cheese, before rolling over and attempting to fall back asleep.

“Jesus Wooyoung, do I have to carry you home?”

“I can help,” San said and leaned down, grabbing the sleeping boy under the arms and swinging him over his shoulder.

“There are many steps to get down,” Yeosang said, a bit impressed.

“My roommate makes me lift, I’ll be fine. Lead the way.”

Yeosang said goodbye to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, looking around for Yunho, who had since disappeared with Mingi. He led San out of the apartment and down the stairs, holding doors open for him. He tried not to think about San’s arms, tensed and strong around Wooyoung’s waist.

When they got outside, Yeosang smacked Woo’s rear, waking him up. San put the younger boy down.

“Do you need me to walk with you?” San asked, still holding Wooyoung lightly to keep him upright.

“I think we’ll be okay, right Wooyoung?”

“No, I want San to walk with us,” Wooyoung mumbled sleepily.

“We’ll be okay,” Yeosang repeated, taking Wooyoung’s arm. “Thanks again, San.”

“No problem, Vampire Boy,” San winked. “Text me.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes as San walked away, a small smile playing on his lips.

  


. . .

 

After Yeosang had packed Wooyoung up and sent him off with a driver- courtesy of Woo’s parents- to the airport, he walked home slowly. The sun was still sleeping, but the campus was full of students departing for the break. He reached his dorm and had to pinch himself so he wouldn’t fall asleep in the elevator.

Fumbling with his keys, he let himself into the apartment, kicking off his shoes and debating whether or not he should brush his teeth. Deciding against it, Yeosang stumbled into his bedroom. He looked over to Yunho’s bed, wondering if his roommate had made it home.

Indeed he had, and not alone. Mingi was sprawled on top of Yunho, their legs twisting together and his face buried in the older boy’s neck. They were fully clothed, save for their shoes and socks and were surrounded by empty packages of ramen and potato chips.

“What the fuck,” Yeosang whispered under his breath, shutting off the light and crawling under his covers. No, you know what? He didn’t want to know.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, lovelies !!!  
> comments and kudos are SO. APPRECIATED.  
> really, it makes my heart so full.
> 
> ALSO !!! WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE COMEBACK ???  
> i'm so proud of the boys, it was insanely good.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang hated that he had allowed San to get to him. He sighed, this was exactly why he began blocking people out in the first place. He was afraid of the vulnerability he had shown in front of San, and how easily the younger boy had been able to pull him gently from the edge, again and again. He hadn’t even meant to be as open as he had been with San, but something about him freed something within Yeosang, and it scared the shit out of him. Yeosang had no idea what San wanted from him; was he just another fuck, or did he want something more? As they spent more and more time together, Yeosang wasn’t sure what he wanted either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, darlings !!!  
> *leaves this here and runs away*
> 
> i hope you enjoy and as always, thank you so much for reading.  
> <3 xx

In Yeosang’s incredibly humble opinion, no one should be guffawing- yes, guffawing- at nine-thirty in the morning. But apparently, no one had asked for his opinion, and he found himself tumbling out of bed at the sound of loud, roaring laughter echoing down the hallway of his apartment. Scrambling to untangle himself from his blankets, he caught a whiff of something less than pleasant. Looking down, he remembered with a groan that he was still in the clothes he had worn the night before.  _ Nice. _

“Ew,” Yeosang muttered, his mouth dry and tasting faintly of death.

The laughter was still going at an enormous rate and it was giving him a headache. Grabbing a towel, he headed for the bathroom, making a pit-stop in the kitchen to tell Yunho to put a pin in it before he stuck a pin in him. 

Yunho was as usual, at the stove, whipping up some sort of multi-layered breakfast sandwich. Sitting to his left on the counter, was Mingi, swinging his legs back and forth like a child and cackling at god knows what. Yeosang paused, observing the two boys from the doorway, confused and intrigued.

San had been right, Mingi was loud as hell. The guest had his head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth wide open as he let wave after wave of  “Ha’s” stream out of his mouth. His voice was deep and even, definitely loud enough to pull an overtired college student out of sleep. Yeosang’s gaze slipped to Yunho who was now tangoing with the spatula, and seemingly the cause of Mingi’s hysteria. Yeosang cleared his throat, signaling his presence.

Yunho looked absolutely delighted by his arrival, throwing him a toothy smile as if he could pierce Yeosang’s troll-like mood with his charms. Yeosang would neither confirm nor deny its effectiveness.

“Good morning, Sangie,” Yunho sniffed, “You smell positively atrocious.” He was still beaming. 

“Thanks, Hyung,” He whipped his towel out, whacking Yunho on the ass, Yunho cackled. Yeosang had forgotten how much his roommate enjoyed being smacked on the ass, and regretted it immediately.

“This is Mingi,” Yunho said, smiling up at the boy on the counter like he had just won him first place in a pie baking competition. Mingi grinned back at Yunho, then used his shoulder as leverage to jump off the counter, reaching his hand out towards Yeosang. 

“Hi, I hope I didn’t wake you up this morning.” He looked truly apologetic, but Yeosang could see small tears in the corner of his eyes from how hard he had been laughing and begrudgingly realized he couldn’t be mad at him. Yeosang clasped Mingi’s hand and gave him a firm shake before remembering his state of uncleanliness and pulling away quickly.  

“Sorry, I’m about to head into the shower.” 

“It’s cool, I have a dog, so I’m used to it,” Mingi said good-naturedly.

Yeosang opened his mouth, wondering if he should be offended at being compared to a dog, but decided it was probably well deserved, he smelled bad.

“It’s nice to meet you, I guess.” 

“Same, bro.”

“I’ll save you some food,” Yunho called after Yeosang, who was already backing out of the kitchen. His roommate wrapped an arm around Mingi’s waist- Yeosang still had no idea what was going on between the two of them- and turned back to the frying eggs.

As Yeosang turned into the hallway, he heard an unfamiliar song blaring from the kitchen,  _ “Pick it up, pick it up, groove, Baby girl watch how you move...”  _

“Is that your ringtone?” Yunho asked over the music. “That song is my shit!”

“Yeahhhh,” Mingi yelled. Jesus, he was loud.

“I love puns,” Yunho laughed out, “Pick it up!” The two boys burst into laughter, Mingi picked up and the music stopped. 

“What’s up, San,” Mingi said through giggles.

Yeosang paused in the hallway, backing up softly so he could hear better. He usually wasn’t one to snoop, and he tried not to think about why he cared so much, but he couldn’t help himself. Hearing San’s name set off a reactor in his brain, and though he wasn’t ready to unpack what it all meant, besides, he was curious.

“I thought you said you were going with Jongho,” Mingi said into the phone. Yeosang couldn’t hear what was San was saying on the other line, but he was pretty good at piecing things together.

“You know my parents would love to have you at the studio, and you could stay by my place if you want,” Mingi paused, listening.

“You’re going to stay here? Okay, whatever works, dude.”

Mingi let out an enormous laugh and Yeosang jumped, even Wooyoung wasn’t that loud. 

“I love you too, San,” another pause, “I’m at Yunho’s dorm, he’s making us breakfast.” 

Yeosang could hear the smile in Mingi’s voice. And then he heard his name. 

“Yeosang?” Mingi said, voice raised in a question. Yeosang froze, then unfroze, panicking slightly. “Yeah, he was just here, but he went to shower.”

Yeosang unstuck his feet from the floor and crept down the hallway, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, shutting out the conversation and clutching his towel. He felt his heart hammering in his chest, a mixture of unanswered questions and uncertainty. San asking about him didn’t mean anything, and Yeosang was proud to say he felt nothing at all. Nothing. At. All.  _ Fuck.  _ He needed a cold shower, now.

 

. . .

 

Yeosang finished his shower, changing into a pair of clean sweats and a tee before heading back towards the kitchen. Mingi was still there, and he was raiding their fridge. Yeosang raised an eyebrow and looked around for Yunho, but his roommate was nowhere to be found. He heard the fridge close with a clink. 

“Uh,” Mingi had finally noticed him standing there and was now leaning against the counter, trying his best to look like he wasn’t just digging around for second breakfast in the fridge. 

“Hey,” Yeosang said, “Still hungry?”

Mingi widened his eyes sheepishly, then tried to play it off, “Naw, I’m good.”

“Okay, because I was going to let you share this heaping plate of food Yunho left for me,” Yeosang said, gesturing to the heaping plate of food Yunho had left for him. 

Mingi shook his head, squeezing his lips together.

“Are you sure?”

“Mmhm.”

“Suit yourself,” Yeosang pulled out a chair and sat down, tucking his legs beneath him and dragging the plate over. He picked up his fork and Mingi plopped down in the chair next to him.

“I guess I could eat.”

Yeosang grinned triumphantly, handing Mingi his fork and grabbing another one from beside the sink. 

“Great, dig in.”

They ate in silence. Yeosang quite enjoyed watching just how much food Mingi could eat, it was kind of endearing if he was being honest. He could understand why the tall boy and Yunho had bonded so quickly. Even from the small amount of time he had spent observing them, Yeosang could tell there was something between them no one else could hope to have. 

Yeosang set his fork down, swallowing and clearing his throat, Mingi kept eating.

“So, what are your plans for break?”

Mingi grunted, trying to swallow what he was chewing before answering. “I’m just going to be home, helping out at my parent’s dance studio. They live a twenty minute drive from campus, so I stay there all year.”

“That’s awesome, so I take it you enjoy dancing?”

Mingi’s mouth was full of food again, but he nodded enthusiastically. 

Yeosang decided to keep talking so Mingi wouldn’t feel obliged to open his mouth.    
“I really admire people who can dance, Yunho’s a dance major and whenever I see him perform it blows my mind.”

“Urhmagod, he’s insanely good!” Mingi burst out, allowing bits of food to fly from his mouth. Yeosang ducked, fear in his eyes.

“Oops, sorry man.” Mingi clamped a hand over his mouth. Yeosang threw him a napkin, “It’s fine.”

“You know my friend San isn’t a dance major, but he’s really good too. He’s actually going to be working at my parent’s studio over break.”

Yeosang tried not to sound too interested, “Oh, cool. Is he staying by you?”   
“Nope, here. He was supposed to be going to Jongho, his roommate’s house, but he told me this morning he decided to stay.”

“Ah.” 

“This morning” was not the same story Yeosang had heard last night, and slowly things started to make sense.

Mingi brought his fork up to his mouth, but paused before he could take a bite, “Hey, he actually asked about you this morning.”

Yeosang feigned shock, shaking his head quickly, “I don’t know why, I barely know him.”

“Huh,” Mingi shrugged, “I think you’d like him, he’s a great guy.”

“Maybe,” Yeosang said quietly.

Yeosang wondered if San had made the decision to stay after hearing he was going to be sticking around for break. He couldn’t decide if he was flattered or annoyed. On the one hand, San canceling plans, especially ones that involved getting away from campus, just for a chance to hang out with some guy he barely knew was crazy. No one- besides for possibly Wooyoung- had ever done anything like that for him before. On the other hand, the fact that San was trying so hard to spend time with Yeosang was driving him mad. He didn’t think he wanted their relationship to go any farther than it had already, he was perfectly happy staying as “just some dudes with mutual friends and a weird history”. But then again, it was hard to convince himself he didn’t care at all about San and his ridiculous innuendos when he was constantly finding ways to sneak into Yeosang’s head. He hadn’t turned out to be as bad as Yeosang thought he was, but he was still hesitant about letting him become a regular in his life. He could admit that he was still feeling the aftermath of his break-up with Hoshi, and he didn’t know if he was ready for something new. He could argue that they could just be friends, but he didn’t know if that was possible either. Yeosang hated that he had allowed San to get to him. He sighed, this was exactly why he began blocking people out in the first place. He was afraid of the vulnerability he had shown in front of San, and how easily the younger boy had been able to pull him gently from the edge, again and again. He hadn’t even meant to be as open as he had been with San, but something about him freed something within Yeosang, and it scared the shit out of him. Yeosang had no idea what San wanted from him; was he just another fuck, or did he want something more? As they spent more and more time together, Yeosang wasn’t sure what he wanted either.

 

“Sangie,” Yunho whispered gently into Yeosang’s ear, it sounded far away. Yeosang blinked, his mind rushing back to the kitchen with Yunho’s breath on his neck.

“Yeah,” He blinked again, the room coming into focus. “I’m here.”

Yunho smiled softly, moving to stand behind Mingi. His roommate knew how Yeosang sometimes drifted off, his mind going elsewhere and leaving his body behind and he had learned to bring him back gently.

“I have to leave for the airport now, okay?” Yunho said, softer than he usually was.

Yeosang got up, pushing his seat back with his calves. “Do you need help with anything? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were going already.”

“No, no, no, I have everything. Mingi helped me finish up my packing this morning. He’s really good at sitting on things,” Yunho said, winking at Mingi.

Mingi turned red, widening his eyes at Yeosang, “Suitcases. I’m really good at sitting on suitcases.”

Yeosang closed his eyes, willing his mind to drift off again so he didn’t have to watch whatever was happening in front of him. 

“So hey,” Yeosang opened his eyes at Yunho’s voice. “I left you a bunch of lasagnas in the freezer. They should last you a few days, but at some point, you’re going to have to fend for yourself.”

Yeosang nodded, he would manage, it wasn’t as if Yunho had always been around to feed him. 

“Come here,” Yunho opened his arms and Yeosang slid into them, leaving his arms by his sides as Yunho squeezed him breathless. “I’ll miss you, weirdo,” Yunho said, rubbing his chin painfully into Yeosang’s scalp.

“Ouch, I’ll miss you too.”

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” Yunho released Yeosang and took him by the shoulders, looking questioningly into his eyes.

Yeosang nodded again, trying to speed things up. He hated unnecessarily long goodbyes. 

“Oh, and a word of advice from your resident ‘best giver of advice, maybe ever,’” Yunho paused for dramatic effect, “Do your assignment now so you can relax for the rest of break.”

“Well, seeing as you  _ are _ the ‘best giver of advice, maybe ever,’ I will definitely take that into account.”

“Good man,” Yunho patted Yeosang on the shoulder and turned to Mingi, who was standing by the doorway holding a frozen lasagna. “Oh yeah, I gave him a lasagna.”

Yeosang chuckled, “I thought you might have. It’s cool.”

Mingi grinned, clutching it to his chest, “Yeah it is, freezing actually.”

Yunho let out a snort of laughter and Yeosang rolled his eyes so hard it hurt, “Jesus, you too?”

“Him too,” Yunho beamed at Mingi. 

“Ready?” Mingi said, smiling back just as widely.

“Yeah,” Yunho gave Yeosang’s cheek a pinch before joining Mingi. “Alright, see you soon, kiddo.”

“It was nice to meet you, Yeosang. Maybe I’ll see you over break,” Mingi saluted. 

Yeosang raised his hand in farewell, watching the tall boys leave with Yunho’s suitcase. He waddled back into his bedroom and crawled into bed. Winter break had begun and he was ready for a nap. 

 

. . .

 

Yeosang was having a marvelous time. Break had been going on for three days and he had been doing absolutely nothing. Well, absolutely nothing productive. He slept until the sun was high in the sky and the acceptable period for “breakfasting” had long passed. He spent the afternoons in the gym, boarding up and down the length of it, wishing he could be out on the ramps. He ate Yunho’s lasagnas one by one, playing video games until ungodly hours of the morning and completely neglecting his Art History assignment. 

He knew he had to do it at some point, and that the longer he ignored it the harder it would be to get it done, but he just couldn’t bring himself to work on it. Sitting in his dorm room wasn’t doing him any good, so he went to the school library, hoping it would help him focus. He sat there with his textbook open on the same page for an hour, whoever said libraries helped people focus was an asshat. He texted Wooyoung.

 

**ys: how’s japan?**

 

**wy: Sangie! It’s so good, I wish you were here**

 

**ys: same. this assignment is killing me.**

**ys: i’m really tempted to close my head between the pages of this textbook**

 

**wy: :/ Please don’t.**

 

**ys: …**

 

**wy: Why don’t you text San? He said he could help you out.**

 

**ys: no thanks**

 

**wy: Why not? You’re just shooting yourself in the leg here.**

 

**ys: i don’t like people.**

 

**wy: You don’t make any sense to me.**

**wy: I’m texting him.**

 

**ys: Woo, don’t!**

 

**wy: Oops.**

 

**ys: i hate u**

 

**wy: There’s nothing wrong with asking for help**

**_____**

 

**cs: Hey, it’s San. Woo asked me to text you. How’s the assignment coming?**

 

**ys: it’s great! going fabulously.**

 

**cs: Oh, awesome!**

 

**_____**

 

**wy: Yeosang.**

 

**ys: yep?**

 

**wy: Can you please let him help you?**

**wy: What’s the worst that could happen?**

 

**ys: …**

**ys: fine. i still hate u tho**

 

**wy: No you don’t**

 

**ys: maybe i don’t, go away.**

 

**_____**

 

**ys: okay, maybe it’s not going fabulously.**

 

**cs: What are you stuck on?**

 

**ys: um.. everything?**

**ys: i just don’t have the brain to focus right now.**

 

**cs: Are you somewhere quiet? That could be helpful.**

 

**ys: i’m at the library…**

 

**cs: Libraries have been known to be quiet.**

 

**ys: i want to kill someone**

 

**cs: Hey, you know maybe that isn’t the** **_best_ ** **idea.**

 

**ys: ur not sounding very convincing**

 

**cs: I get off of work in twenty minutes, do you want me to meet you at the library?**

 

**ys: u don’t have to.**

 

**cs: I have nothing else going on tonight, besides I want to help.**

**cs: I did tell you I’m very good at art history, right?**

 

**ys: u may have mentioned it.**

 

**cs: So that’s a yes?**

 

**ys: i guess.**

 

**cs: Cool, I’ll be there in about an hour.**

**cs: Make a list of everything you need help with, and we’ll start with that.**

 

**ys: i’m just going to write “everything”**

 

**cs: Lol, that’s fine. We’ll start at the beginning.**

**cs: Okay, I have to run, but I’ll see you soon.**

**cs: Hang in there, Sangie.**

 

**ys: i’ll try**

 

**_____**

 

**wy: ???**

 

**ys: he’s coming to help me**

 

**wy: Good! You’re Welcome**

 

**ys: i’ll decide if i should thank u later.**

 

**wy: Fair enough.**

 

**_____**

**cs: Hey, I just got to the library, where are you?**

Delivered 6:03 PM

**cs: Yeosang?**

Delivered 6:06 PM

**cs: Hello, is you dead?**

**cs: Oh wait, I see you. You’re sleeping.**

**cs: I hope…**

**cs: Do you always bring your skateboard with you to the library?**

**cs: Maybe I should stop texting you and wake you up instead.**

Delivered 6:08 PM

 

. . .

 

“Hey, Yeosang,” San nudged the sleeping boy’s leg with his knee. 

“Sangieee,” he whispered again, this time greeted with a soft snore. He snickered, and sat down at the table, resting his chin in his arms and observing Yeosang slumbering peacefully. He watched the way Yeosang’s nostrils fluttered softly with each breath, his eyelashes gently brushing the tops of his cheeks. His lips were set in a pout and his cheeks were dusted with a light blush, the kind that only accompanies a deep sleep. San’s eyes wandered, tracing the plane of his nose up to his forehead and settling on his left cheekbone where a splotch of raspberry painted his skin; he hadn’t noticed it before. San lifted his head off his arms, reaching a hand towards the mark, realizing the boy must usually cover it with makeup. He let his fingertips hover millimeters above the birthmark, he didn’t think he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life. 

Yeosang stirred and San snapped out of his reverie, curling his fingers into a fist and pulling his hand away from the sleeping boy’s cheek quickly, placing it in his lap. He really needed to wake him up, sitting and staring at his face wasn’t doing him any good and he had promised to help him study. San let out a cough, sliding his elbow across the table and nudging Yeosang gently on the arm. 

“Wake up, Yeosang,” he shook his shoulder slightly, so as not to shock him. Yeosang groaned and opened his eyes, blinking the sleep from his face. The room came into focus and Yeosang sat up slowly, wiping a bit of drool from his mouth.

“I forgot you drool,” San laughed.

“Shut the fuck up, I don’t drool,” Yeosang snapped back, it sounded weak. San just grinned at him. “How long was I sleeping?”

“I have no idea, I just got here,” San lied.

Yeosang stretched, lifting his arms above his head before bringing them down and tousling his hair. “I guess I needed that, I told you this assignment was fucking killing me.”

“Well fear not, as I am here to save your ass.” San sat up straight, lifting his chin and looking off into the distance like some off-brand superhero. 

Yeosang rolled his eyes, pushing his textbook towards the younger boy, “Work your magic, genius.” 

San grinned and flipped the textbook open. “Chapter One, Egyptians and their weird ass cat fetishes.”

“Hey, don’t kink-shame the Egyptians,” Yeosang shot back, earning an even wider grin from San. This was going to be fun. 

 

. . .

 

Yeosang didn’t think they’d get very far, what with San making horrible Jesus puns and gasping unnecessarily loudly whenever a pair of oddly sculpted boobs showed up on a page, but at the end of the night, they had gone through almost half the textbook. San helped Yeosang write out the chapter summaries he had to turn in, explaining things as many times as the older boy needed before he understood. 

Occasionally, after they had been going at it for a while, Yeosang would get frustrated and start mumbling about how he was going to fail the assignment and get kicked out of University. Each time, San would close the textbook and push it to the opposite side of the table before reassuring the panicking boy he would be fine, and that they would finish it together, even if it took all week. Once Yeosang had calmed down, San would have him talk. Never prying, only prompting him with simple questions about his major, hobbies, and friends. 

The conversation flowed easily between them, their tones bouncing from serious to completely sarcastic in a matter of seconds. At one point the younger boy had Yeosang laughing so hard at his imitation of the boy’s group of friends based on the few times he’d met them, San had to clamp a hand over his mouth before a Library staff kicked them out. Giggling, they pulled the textbook open and continued on.

As San read out loud to him, Yeosang watched him carefully. He noticed the way the dark-haired boy pursed his lips as he read, pronouncing every word carefully and adding commentary when he felt it was necessary. His face was bare and smooth, dotted here and there with a couple of beauty marks. Yeosang’s eyes followed every blink of his lashes and jumped to his cheeks every time a dimple would pop up, accompanying a smile. He felt a warmth in his belly, one that came with comfort and familiarity. He felt at ease and completely unguarded, and even though it scared him to no end, he knew he would chase that feeling to the ends of the earth and back. He longed to feel that churning hate he used to feel towards the boy. It was only a few weeks ago that he had been grimacing at the mention of San’s name and doing everything in his power to avoid him. But the boy had slipped into his life, and now Yeosang found himself drowning in the soothing lilt of his voice, feeling a shiver through his spine every time their knees accidentally banged together. San hadn’t been anything but kind to him in the past few weeks, having eased up significantly on the suggestive comments and being there over and over again to help him when he didn’t think anyone could. Yeosang kind of missed his constant flirting, it had made it easier for him to hate him. He had been convinced that sex was all San wanted from him, but the younger boy hadn’t tried anything with him since the night they first met, and even then, he had been careful not to cross any lines. He was starting to doubt San was interested in anything other than a platonic friendship and starting to realize that maybe he wanted something more.

“I think we should call it a night, yeah?” the change in San’s tone of voice brought Yeosang back to the table.

“Oh, no we can keep going,” Yeosang answered quickly, readjusting his chair and staring at the textbook. When had they gotten to chapter eighteen? He must have zoned out for a while.

“It’s late, and you look tired,” San said, closing the textbook gently. “We can keep going tomorrow,” he paused, “But only if you want to.”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Yeosang slid the textbook back into his bag and looked up at San. “I’m sorry for being such a shitty study partner, you don’t have to do this.”

“Don’t be sorry, you’re perfectly competent,” San said teasingly, earning a scowl from Yeosang. “I’m kidding, besides, I don’t mind studying with you, you’re cute when you’re focusing.” 

Yeosang internally swore at himself for the unfamiliar flip flop his heart gave at those words, cursing his reddening cheeks for exposing him in front of San, who was grinning like an idiot. 

Yeosang cleared his throat and stood up, leaving San seated at the wooden table. “Right, so I’ll text you?”

“Please do.”

 

. . .

 

**ys: thanks i guess**

 

**wy: Omg!! How did it go?**

 

**ys: he actually knows his shit, surprisingly**

 

**wy: I TOLD YOU**

 

**ys: pls stop before i block ur number**

 

**wy: Hehe. I’m glad it went well.**

 

**ys: me too.**

Delivered 11:49 PM

 

Yeosang had been too tired to stay up once he got home from the library, brushing his teeth and changing into pajamas before crashing on his bed and falling into a deep sleep. 

 

. . .

 

He woke up to the sound of his phone chiming. Reaching a hand out blindly, he felt around for where he had dropped it the night before. He found it and lifted it towards his face, squinting at the screen, San had texted him. He sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and unlocking his phone.

 

**cs: You up?**

Delivered 10: 18 AM

**cs: No?**

**cs: Well, I hope you’re dreaming about me**

Read 10:21 AM

 

**ys: i’m-**

 

**cs: Morning!**

**cs: Lol, I’m just fucking with you**

**cs: What time should I come over later?**

 

**ys: ur coming over?**

 

**cs: Yeah bro, we have like ten more chapters to get through**

 

**ys: okay sure i guess we can study here**

 

**cs: Yeah? Great! I finish work at 5, so I can get there around 6**

 

**ys: cool**

**ys: uh, do u need my address?**

 

**cs: Nah son, I know where you live**

 

**ys: i hate that**

 

**cs: See you then!**

**cs: (*^3^)/~***

 

**ys: wut the fuck**

Read 10:25 AM

 

Yeosang rolled his eyes and threw his phone to the side, sliding back under the covers and willing himself to fall back asleep. He lay there silently for a few minutes, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was grateful that San was so willing to help him with his assignment, he was a good teacher and his jokes made everything a little more bearable. He thought about how nice it was that he didn’t have to leave the house now that San was coming over to- “Fuck!” Yeosang exclaimed, sitting up in bed and pushing his blankets off himself.

“Fuck, fuck,” He looked around at his bedroom, suddenly very awake. It was a wreck. He jumped out of bed and started gathering his dirty clothes from the floor, cursing himself for letting it get so out of hand while Yunho was away. It wasn’t like he had been expecting anyone to come over, but now that someone, not someone,  _ San,  _ was coming over he had a shit ton of cleaning to do.

He finished straightening up his room before tackling the rest of the apartment. Timidly, he made his way into the kitchen, only to be greeted by the tallest pile of dishes he had seen in his life. He thought he might cry, he texted Yunho.

 

**ys: Yunho where’s the mop?**

 

**yh: Sangie, are you cleaning ???**

 

**ys: maybe**

**ys: yes, please just tell me where it is**

**ys: i have a fuck ton of dishes to wash and so much floor to scrub**

 

**yh: It’s under the sink**

**yh: OoOh is this for a booty call?**

 

**ys: wtf, no.**

**ys: San’s coming over to help me study**

 

**yh: mmhmm**

 

**ys: istg i will destroy your lego tower if you do not shut up this instant**

 

**yh: You wouldn’t**

 

**ys: look me in the eyes and tell me i wouldn’t bring your whole city to ruins**

 

**yh: Okay, true you would totally do that**

**yh: Consider me “shut up”**

**yh: ….**

**yh: Have fun ;)**

 

**ys: YUNHO**

 

**yh: KIDDING ILY**

Read 11:31 AM

 

. . .

 

It only took Yeosang three hours to clean the apartment. When he had finished, he stood sweating and admired his work. He hadn’t expected to “go off” and clean as well as he had, but once he had Troye Sivan on blast he kind of got lost in the mopping. He still had a few hours until San arrived, so he decided to hop in the shower. After changing into clean sweats- he debated putting on nicer clothes but decided he didn’t want to try too hard- he got back into bed with a cup of ramen and his Gameboy. San texted him as he was leaving work.

 

**cs: Hey! I’m about to head to campus**

**cs: ngl, I’m kind of famished**

 

**ys: oh, cool**

**ys: um, i have lasagna that Yunho left for me if u want..**

 

**cs: YES I LOVE LASAGNA**

**cs: Sorry for yelling**

 

**ys: lol, don’t worry**

Delivered 5:07 PM

 

Yeosang got out of bed and walked to the kitchen, opening the freezer to start defrosting a lasagna for dinner. He peered inside the freezer, “Fuck.” 

 

**ys: um, awkward..**

**ys: i’m kind of out of lasagna..**

**ys: i’m sorry, i know you said you were hungry**

 

**cs: It’s okay! Don’t worry about it**

 

**ys: r u sure? u said you were starving..**

 

**cs: Yeah, it’s totally fine.**

**cs: Does your apartment have an oven?**

 

**ys: yes?**

 

**cs: Great, I have some shit at home I need to use before it goes bad**

**cs: Do you mind if I cook?**

 

**ys: um, no i don’t mind**

 

**cs: Awesome, see you soon dude**

 

**ys: yeah see u**

**ys: dude**

 

**cs: :)**

 

. . .

 

San showed up half an hour late, flushed from the cold and holding a giant brown paper bag. When Yeosang swung the door open, San’s face split into a giant grin, effectively making Yeosang feel like he had been punched in the gut. Inwardly telling himself to pull his shit together, he let San in.

“Hey,” San said breathlessly, “Thanks for having me.”

“Uh, my pleasure,” Yeosang replied before realizing he should probably offer to help with the bag. “Do you need help?”

“Nah, I’ve got it, where’s your kitchen?”

“You don’t remember where my kitchen is?” Yeosang asked, confused.

San laughed, “I do, I do. I just thought it would be less creepy if I pretended I didn’t know the entire layout of your home by heart.”

“Oh,” Yeosang said thoughtfully, “That’s nice of you, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” San looked at Yeosang expectedly, “Well?”

“Oh,” Yeosang let out, remembering that he was supposed to “tell” San where the kitchen was. “Uh, follow me, I guess.” He led the younger boy into the kitchen and San dropped the bag onto the counter lightly. 

“Do you have an apron?” San asked, already rolling up his sleeves and digging into the paper bag.

“Yeah, but Yunho lowkey wears it in the nude sometimes so, if you want it it’s completely at your own risk.” Yeosang held his breath, wondering if bringing up the fact that his roommate walks around nude on a regular basis was a bad call on his part, but San let out a shriek of laughter and Yeosang felt his heart thwack against his chest. It’s okay, he reassured himself, he can do this. He knew how to be human and have a normal conversation with someone without thinking about maybe possibly wanting to kiss them silly, right? Totally.

“We’re skipping the apron then,” San said, still giggling. Yeosang smiled back, aching at the way San’s face dimpled when he laughed. He shook his head, trying to focus on something else.

“So,” Yeosang drawled, “how was work?”

“It was great! Really good, actually!” San said, filling up a pot with water to boil some rice. Yeosang sat down at the kitchen table and San went on, “Mingi’s parents run a great program and the kids there are awesome.” Yeosang watched San talk, smiling softly at the way the boy lit up while talking about his students. “I mean, for such young kids to come in and work so hard, it’s amazing to see, and they all have so much energy…” He trailed off, grinning to himself, “It’s exhausting, but I love it so much.”

“That’s amazing, San,” Yeosang said, “I’m glad you get to do that,” he meant it.

“Me too,” San said, smiling at Yeosang. “Hey, why don’t you get out your textbook and read out loud while I make us dinner, yeah?”

Yeosang had almost forgotten they were supposed to be studying, content to sit and listen to San talk all night. “Oh! Yeah, good idea.”

He went to the hallway where he had left his bag the previous night, grabbing his textbook and heading back to the kitchen. He opened up to where they had left off and began reading. He wasn’t used to reading out loud in front of people, and his voice cracked a few times before he settled into it. San peeled vegetables and poured sauces into a dish, all while listening to Yeosang read. After Yeosang would finish a chapter, San would stop him, making sure he understood everything he had read and explaining what he hadn’t. Yeosang sat quietly, watching the boy work at the stove and listening to him rattle off facts about Dadaism that no one should have to know. Yeosang couldn’t help but admire how animatedly San spoke about everything, making even the most boring parts of Art History seem fascinating. He loved seeing the younger boy like this, completely unguarded, a little bit messy and effortlessly funny. The cool, confident persona he always wore wiped away and replaced with high pitched laughter and bright eyed smiles. He was almost certain that San wanted nothing more than this, and it simultaneously made him soft for the younger boy and sad for himself. After all those weeks of hating him, Yeosang allowed himself to see a different side of San, one that made him feel like he was falling in slow motion. It still terrified him to think of how open and comfortable he felt around San, but his desire to know every part of him, from the beautiful to the ugly was overriding all the fear. He closed his eyes, San’s voice still playing in his ears, and accepted that he wanted something more. He wanted lazy morning kisses and to let his hands run mindlessly through the younger boy’s hair. He wanted to sit quietly and listen as San spoke about everything and anything, letting his voice carry him to places no one else could. And for the first time in a long time, he thought he might want to let someone in. 

Yeosang listened as San finished up his explanation of Conceptualism and spooned food into bowls.

“Let’s eat on the couch,” San said, picking up a bowl in each hand and gesturing towards the hallway with his head. “Can you grab some chopsticks?” San called over his shoulder as he left the kitchen, leaving Yeosang alone. Yeosang got up, leaving the textbook on the table and grabbing a couple pairs of chopsticks from a drawer before joining San on the couch. He sat down, folding his legs underneath him and exchanging a pair of chopsticks for a bowl of food. 

“Thanks for making dinner,” Yeosang said, accepting the food.

“My pleasure,” San smirked at Yeosang, “Tell me what you think.”

Yeosang looked down at his bowl of steaming food, realizing San had made chicken. He looked up at San, eyes sparkling. “You made chicken,” Yeosang’s voice went soft, “I fucking love chicken.” 

San’s face exploded in dimples, “I know,” he whispered, “Wooyoung told me.” He raised his eyebrows and jutted his chin towards Yeosang’s bowl, urging him to try the food. “I hope you like it, because I feel like feeding you bad chicken is one of the seven deadly sins or something.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Yeosang said, still smiling as he scooped up a piece of well sauced chicken. He brought it to his mouth, his eyes boring into San’s, who was looking at him, curious. He took a bite, teeth sinking through the soft flesh of the meat, coating his tongue in tangy spice. And oh my god, he was pretty sure his soul left his body right then and there. His eyes closed, and it took every inch of willpower he had to not let out a groan. 

“Well?” He heard San say, he sounded nervous.

Yeosang’s eyes flew open, catching on the boy sitting across from him. San looked restless and eager, his hair all messy from the heat of the kitchen and wrists slightly stained with sauce. Cute, Yeosang thought. He looked questioningly at Yeosang, waiting, waiting. Yeosang swallowed. 

“You made this?” He asked weakly.

San looked confused, “Yeah, you were sitting right there, why?”

Yeosang set his bowl down gently on the floor and San watched his movements, fearing the worst. His voice got small, “Is it bad? I’m sorry if it’s bad, I thought I had it down, I-” 

Yeosang leaned forward, telling every warning bell in his head to fuck off as he pressed his lips firmly against San’s, shutting him up.  _ This, this, this,  _ Was all Yeosang could think as he felt the warmth of San’s mouth beneath his. San froze, eyes widening as Yeosang pulled away. 

“Did you do that because you’re high on chicken?” San asked weakly, his voice so timid Yeosang couldn’t help but break into a smile.

“Taste the chicken,” Yeosang whispered, and watched as San raised a piece to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, it was damn good. San swallowed, “It’s good?” he croaked, still unsure of what was happening. Yeosang nodded, smile widening before taking San’s face in his hands and bringing him close. “It’s amazing. Can I kiss you, again?” he said softly, breath fanning across San’s chin. 

“You just want to taste the chicken on me,” San said, regaining his composure scarily fast. Yeosang chuckled, “True, but not just,” he studied the younger boy, “So is that a yes?” 

San didn’t answer, instead, taking it upon himself to close the gap between them, slotting their lips together feverishly and sitting up on his knees, scooting closer and straddling Yeosang. San opened his mouth and took Yeosang’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down softly. Yeosang groaned beneath the younger boy, pushing his chin forward and swiping at the roof of San’s mouth with his tongue. It was soft and wet and fast and messy, it was everything Yeosang needed and he decided right then and there that if he had to choose between this and chicken he would choose chicken. But right after chicken was this: San moving above him, arms wrapped loosely around Yeosang’s neck, sending shivers through his body as he nipped gently at his mouth before attacking him suddenly with his tongue. 

San pulled away, eyes blown and lips swollen, “Wait,” he panted, “Is this going to be that thing where you kiss me and then hate me afterward?” 

Yeosang moved his hands to the boy’s neck, smiling up at him fondly and shaking his head.

“No,” he pressed a quick peck to San’s jaw, “I really want this.” 

“Okay, good,” San sighed and took Yeosang’s mouth with his own. Needless to say, the chicken got cold. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL ???????  
> what did y'all think?  
> comments and kudos are so appreciated you have NO idea,  
> much love !!
> 
> ps. i want to thank my darling, Chan, for putting up with my bullshit and reading over my shoulder. this wouldn't be possible without you. <3


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I really like kissing you, Sangie, like so much it makes me stupid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know what to say except i love you all.  
> thank you all for reading, always.  
> ALSO i got twitter ?? i'll link it below.
> 
> <3 kudos to YOU for taking time to read and comment, y'all are my favorite.

Yeosang wouldn’t have believed it was real if it weren’t for the way that San was biting his lip. He wouldn’t have believed it was real if it weren’t for the way San took him, gently and curiously, pressing him down against the stained couch and letting his mouth trace over every plane of Yeosang’s face. He wouldn’t have believed it was real if it weren’t for the way the younger boy was laughing against his lips, teasing him for finally giving in to his flirting. 

“I thought you hated me,” San pressed, resting his lips against Yeosang’s jaw.

“I thought so too,” Yeosang gasped, stretching his neck to make room for San’s teeth.

“I knew I’d get to you,” he laughed, and Yeosang had known it was a joke. He knew that if he had asked for space, San would have given it to him, that if he had told him no, it wouldn’t have meant yes. 

It was years before San sat up, smirking at how Yeosang whined underneath him before leaning down and swallowing the sounds with a chaste kiss. 

“Baby?” he pulled away from Yeosang, who blushed. “Oh, do you like when I call you baby, baby?”

Yeosang groaned and brought his hands up, covering his face. “No, shut the fuck up, I hate it,” He mumbled against his palms. San took his wrists and lifted his hands from his face, grinning when he saw how flushed he was, “Oh, I don’t think you do, baby.”

Yeosang sat up suddenly, pushing San down and sitting on top of him, “I swear to god San, call me baby one more time and I’ll never kiss you again,” he sounded venomous, but a smile played on his lips. 

“Bet,” San said, grinning up at him, “that was hot.” Yeosang rolled his eyes, but lowered his elbows and dropped his head to meet San’s lips. 

“What were you going to say?” Yeosang asked quickly, pulling San’s tongue into his mouth, and biting down gently.

San moaned into his mouth and brought his hands to Yeosang’s chest, pushing him away and trying to catch his breath. “First of all, we should really finish your assignment tonight,” he said, and Yeosang groaned unenthusiastically. “Second of all, do that thing you just did again,” and he pulled Yeosang back down by the front of his shirt.

It was another fifteen minutes before San pushed Yeosang off him and rolled off the couch. Yeosang sat silently as the boy took their forgotten bowls of chicken into the kitchen, placing them into the microwave and returning a few minutes later with reheated food and Yeosang’s textbook. 

“Scooch,” and Yeosang did, making room for San who handed him a bowl.

“I’m having deja-vu,” Yeosang said, putting a piece of chicken into his mouth and smiling gently at San.    
“Finish your food this time, you made it very clear that you liked it,” San winked at Yeosang who was busy stuffing his face with chicken.

“It’s really fucking good, Sannie, like, how?”

San only grinned, unfolding his legs and putting them in Yeosang’s lap, “A chef never tells his secrets.”

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” Yeosang lifted his elbows, resting them on San’s legs, “I guess you’ll just have to cook for me again, then.”

“I’ll cook for you every day if you promise to kiss me like that every time.”

Yeosang pursed his lips, “I’ll kiss you if you deserve to be kissed,” he said, full snob. 

“Shut up and eat your chicken, baby.” Yeosang elbowed him in the shin. 

“Ah, okay!” San yelled, bursting into laughter, “I’ll stop, but we need to finish your assignment right now.” He set his empty bowl down on the floor and pulled the textbook onto his lap.

Yeosang looked carefully at the boy across from him, a warmth spreading through his chest. He smiled softly, watching San flip through the book, looking for the spot where they had left off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on the feelings moving through him, but it had become clear that his fears of San using studying as a ploy to get in his pants weren’t valid. San had actually wanted to help him, and the fact that they were now kissing, or whatever this was, wasn’t going to distract him from finishing what he had originally come to do. 

“Ready?” San said, book open on his lap.

Yeosang nodded, and San began to read. He read until all the book had left to offer was acknowledgments and then helped Yeosang write out summaries for the final chapters. When it was over, Yeosang put his pen down, pushing a long breath out between his lips, “I can’t believe we finished,” he said, disbelieving. 

San closed the book with a snap, pushing it off his lap and pulling Yeosang onto it. “I’m so proud of you.”

“You did most of it,” Yeosang said, shifting around until they were both comfortable.

“Well, I helped, but it was mostly you.”

“I am so not in the mood of arguing right now.”

San grinned, “So kiss me instead.”

“I can do that,” Yeosang whispered, bringing his lips down to meet San’s but not letting them touch, “It was you,” and he pressed against San’s mouth before the boy could get a word in. 

“Yeosang?” 

“Mhm?”

“As much as I like kissing you,” San gasped as Yeosang bit his earlobe, “I should go home, it’s getting late.”

Yeosang sat back, looking at him sadly, “Okay.”   
“I  _ really _ like kissing you, Sangie, like so much it makes me stupid, but I have work in the morning and I need to be awake or the kids will be impossible.”

“Okay.” 

“I can come back tomorrow if you want,” San said, pushing some stray hair out of Yeosang’s eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” Yeosang said, crossing his arms and pouting his lips.

“Who would have known you were such a pouty bitch?” San laughed, letting his hand fall from the older boy’s hair and cupping his face. 

“Literally anyone could have told you that, San.”

Still laughing, San gently pulled himself out from under Yeosang, grabbing his shoes and putting them on. Yeosang got up and followed him to the front door, still pouting. 

San opened the door and stepped into the hallway, turning around to see Yeosang leaning against the doorway, he smiled. “Are you going to join Wooyoung in Japan now that you’ve finished your assignment?”

Yeosang shook his head, “I’ll think about it, but there might be some things here that interest me more, I don’t know, I’ll have to investigate.”

“Interesting, well you’ll have to let me know what you find,” the cheekiness was evident in San’s voice.

“Maybe.” 

“Don’t make me call you baby,” San said, lifting an eyebrow threateningly.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Yeosang dropped his head towards the floor, suddenly shy, “Will you come back tomorrow?” He looked up, “Please?”

San stepped towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing him, all soft, “Definitely.” 

Yeosang smiled against the younger boy’s mouth, “Good.”

San pulled his head back, “Goodnight, Sangie,” he said, arms still around him, 

“Night, San. Thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yeosang said, pinching San’s hip.

“You’re a weirdo,” San shook his head, and pulled the older boy against him, “But I like kissing you anyway.” 

He kissed him again lightly, moving his lips only slightly before letting him go, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Yeosang nodded, pushing him off him and out into the hallway, “Sweet dreams.” He closed the door behind San, letting the lock click gently before leaning against it, a smile spilling over his face. 

 

. . .

 

The next morning Yeosang entertained himself by rolling over and going back to sleep every time he woke up, it was a game he excelled at. 

It was half-past one before he let his eyes stay open, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a small groan as he felt his muscles loosen. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table, opening it up and seeing Wooyoung had been spamming him with pictures from his trip while he slept. Yunho had also been texting him, wondering how he was doing and if he had enough to eat. He was also being incredibly nosy, his last text read:

 

**yh: it’s 1:23, Yeosang**

**yh: either you’re ignoring me or you’re still sleeping because you’re exhausted from getting that really good dick last night**

**yh: i hope you’re not ignoring me ;)**

Delivered 1:24 PM 

 

Yeosang scowled, ignoring the fact that his back felt like he had gotten some really good dick and texted Yunho back.

 

**ys: i was ignoring you**

**ys: and if it was the other way around i wouldn’t have been the one getting dick**

Delivered 1:46 PM

 

He added some middle finger emojis for good measure and padded to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When Yeosang saw himself in the mirror his mouth dropped open. He knew San had paid attention to his neck the night before, but he hadn’t realized just how  _ much _ attention. Starting at his jaw and twisting down towards his collarbone were clusters of dark bites in varying shades of purple. If he walked out of the house, he wouldn’t be surprised if someone thought he was wearing a turtleneck. So San was a biter, good to fucking know. Part of Yeosang wanted to be upset, it wasn’t the most convenient thing to be littered with hickies, but another part of him felt a rush of excitement. Before, Yeosang had been plagued with doubts and fear. The decision to kiss San had been a risk, made in a rush of desperation and desire. But the decision to continue kissing San was easy, it was everything Yeosang had ever wanted. He stared at his neck, replaying every movement San had made above him, every promise he had made as he licked into his mouth and a shiver ran through his body. He wanted more. He pulled out his phone and opened up San’s chat. For a moment, Yeosang hesitated but decided that now he had put his tongue down San’s throat there was really no reason to be embarrassed. 

 

**ys: i’m bored**

**ys: also, hello**

 

Yeosang expected it to take a while for San to respond, seeing as he was at work, but he got a text back almost immediately.

 

**cs: Good Morning, Sangie!**

**cs: Did you just wake up?**

 

**ys: yeah, i got tired of sleeping**

 

**cs: And now you’re bored?**

**cs: Of being awake?**

 

**ys: mmm, yep.**

 

**cs: Why don’t you go on a walk?** **  
** **cs: It’s cold, but the sun’s out!**

 

**ys: first of all, ew i hate going outside.**

**ys: second of all, i couldn’t step outside this apartment even if i wanted to.**

 

**cs: Why not?**

 

**ys: ….**

**ys: were u** **_aware_ ** **of what u were doing to my neck last night?**

 

**cs: Oh, is it bad?**

 

**ys: i can’t see my neck.**

 

**cs: Let me see**

 

**ys: u want me to send u a pic of the trainwreck u left for me to deal with?**

 

**cs: Please**

 

**ys: aren’t u at work**

 

**cs: Lunch Break**

**cs: Let me see !!!**

 

**ys: weirdo**

 

Yeosang pulled down the collar of his shirt and lifted his chin, exposing his marked-up neck before lifting his phone and snapping a couple of selfies. His jaw angled sharply, increasing the contrast between his clean face and colored neck. Yeosang smirked slightly, he couldn’t deny that it looked hot. He sent it off with an eye roll emoji and moved to the couch. It was a good five minutes before San responded.

 

**cs: Fuck**

**cs: Okay, you were right I should not have asked you to send that**

 

**ys: >;) **

**ys: oh? are u proud of yourself**

 

**cs: Absolutely.**

**cs: But I missed a spot…**

**cs: Going to have to come over and fix that later ;)**

 

Yeosang bit the inside of his cheek, blushing furiously and looking up from his phone. He looked back down to reply but was cut off by another message from San.

 

**cs: I have to go teach the next class**

**cs: See you later, baby <3**

 

**ys: don’t fucking call me baby or ur not coming anywhere**

 

Yeosang gasped, realizing what he had said a second too late. “Shit, shit, shit,” He tried to delete the message, take it back, but he couldn’t. He groaned as he saw the “Read” icon pop-up. Fuck. Yeosang prayed that San wouldn’t take it the wrong way, that somehow his mind wouldn’t go straight to the gutter; he didn’t have high hopes. His phone chimed, all hope lost. 

 

**cs: Oh? I didn’t know that was an option**

 

**ys: stfu u know what i meant**

 

**cs: Mhm, sure**

 

**ys: i hate u**

Read 2:04 PM

 

It was another two hours- which Yeosang spent playing Mario Kart- before San texted him again. He wasn’t proud of how fast he jumped to his phone when he heard it buzz, opening it immediately and feeling his stomach do an odd swoop when he saw San’s name in his notifications. He needed to calm down.

 

**cs: Hey, you still bored?**

 

**ys: yes.**

 

**cs: Lol**

 

**ys: that’s it?**

**ys: u texted me to see if i was still bored and then laughed when i said i was?**

**ys: rude**

 

**cs: Duh, how else would I entertain myself?**

 

**ys: wow RUDE**

 

**cs: I’m kidding ;)**

**cs: What are you doing tonight?**

 

**ys: you**

**ys: FUCK i meant hanging out with u**

**ys: pls delete that from ur brain**

**ys: and me. delete me**

 

**cs: I won’t say no to that**

**cs: Not the deleting part ;)**

**cs: But I can’t come over tonight…**

 

Yeosang tried not to notice the way his stomach dropped when he read San’s text. He wasn’t ready to admit to himself how excited he had been to see the younger boy again, and he felt foolish for thinking San would be equally as eager to be with him again. In Yeosang’s mind, this was San telling him “No, thank you, I’ve changed my mind about you and your mouth.” He tried not to feel too disappointed and thought quickly about how he could respond without relaying the hurt he felt. He picked up his phone from where he had discarded it in disappointment moments before to see another text from San, probably some lame excuse he cooked up so Yeosang wouldn’t feel so bad. Whatever. He knew it had all been too good to be true. He unlocked his phone.

 

**cs: Mingi’s Dad asked me to stay late and work with some kids who need extra help**

 

There was the excuse he’d been waiting for, Yeosang sighed, willing himself not to acknowledge the feeling of unworthiness that began to fill his chest. Another text came in.

 

**cs: Do you maybe want to come here?**

 

Yeosang unfolded his legs, sitting up and reading the text, again and again, hope sparking in his veins as if daring him to believe what San had just asked of him. His phone chimed, San. 

 

**cs: You can hang out in the studio and then we can go get dinner with Mingi afterward**

**cs: But only if you want to… I get it if you don’t**

 

The hope flickering just out of reach roared to life inside Yeosang, turning into disbelief and then just as quickly into a happiness that spilled over and over and over, painting Yeosang’s face all full of smile. He didn’t care to figure out what it meant that San was asking him to come see him tonight, it wouldn’t have mattered where he saw him, honestly, all that mattered to Yeosang was that San wasn’t giving up on him, he wanted this too. 

 

**ys: ok**

 

**cs: Okay?**

 

**ys: sorry, i’m just trying not to keyboard smash rn**

 

**cs: HAHAHA**

**cs: Does that mean yes?**

 

**ys: yes**

 

**cs: Cute**

 

**ys: >:( **

**ys: i’m not cute**

 

**cs: I’m happy you’re coming**

**cs: ME TOO HI YEOSANG**

 

**ys: ??**

 

**cs: That was Mingi**

 

**ys: ah**

**ys: me too**

 

**cs: I have to go but I’ll text you the address.**

**cs: See you soon, Sangie**

 

**. . .**

 

Yeosang was happy he had spent the day before cleaning and organizing his apartment. His closet was neat and he was able to pull together an outfit fairly quickly; black skinny jeans and a two-toned blue turtleneck. The address San had given him showed up as thirty-four minutes away on his maps, just a quick walk and then a bus ride. Yeosang wasn’t sure what he needed, so he grabbed his wallet, headphones, and keys, shoved them into his coat pocket and headed out. Outside, night ruled winter, chasing the sun out of the sky before it was ready to go, throwing everything into darkness before Five PM. 

The bus was fairly empty, moving slowly along roads and off campus, speeding up as it reached the city just outside the university. Yeosang leaned his head against the window, the excitement he felt earlier settling into his blood, moving through him and making him warm all over. He closed his eyes, focusing on the clanking of the heater coming from the ceiling of the bus. He let out a small chuckle of disbelief as what he was doing sunk in. He would have never believed it if someone told him yesterday that this is where he’d be; bussing through the snowy streets on the way to see Choi San. 

The bus stop was only a block away from the Song’s dance studio. He wrapped his coat tightly around his shoulders as he stepped off and headed to the right, following the directions on his phone to a small building just up the road. He double checked the address, confirming he was in the right place and pushed open the front door. The entranceway of the studio was a warmly lit hallway, covered in photos of students and littered with medals and awards they had won while studying there. He found a photo of Mingi, grinning toothily at the camera, his long and lanky form wrapped around a trophy. He had clearly been dancing forever, and had brought a lot of pride to his parent’s studio. Yeosang walked through the hallway, looking at the photos and reading the plaques, it was impressive. His browsing was interrupted by a warm hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump and throw a hand over his mouth to muffle a yell.

“Oh, I’m sorry for scaring you,” the stranger’s voice rumbled, deep and smooth, making Yeosang feel like he had been dunked into a cup of warm coffee. He looked up into the man’s eyes, seeing Mingi all over and everywhere at once.

“Woah,” Yeosang said into his palm, which was still pressed to his mouth.

The man shook his head questioningly and Yeosang put his hand down. 

“You look just like Mingi, or Mingi looks just like you I guess,” Yeosang gushed, realizing this must be the tall boy’s father. Mr. Song’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and moved his hand off Yeosang’s shoulder, reaching instead for a handshake. 

“I  _ am _ his father,” he said in explanation, still smiling.

Yeosang bowed and clasped his hand, embarrassed at having been caught sneaking around the studio.

“Mingi told me he was expecting a friend,” he said, chuckling slightly at Yeosang’s embarrassment, “I’m leaving now, but Mingi and San are in the last classroom down there and to the left,” He pointed towards the end of the corridor.

“Thank you, Mr. Song,” Yeosang said, “I’m honored to be here.”

“No need to be honored, you are always welcome,” Mingi’s father said, sliding on a coat that he seemingly pulled from nowhere and heading towards the exit, “I was glad to meet you.”

“Me too,” Yeosang said quickly, watching the tall man wave animatedly before pushing the door open and heading into the cold. 

He turned around in the direction Mingi’s father had pointed to and padded down the carpeted hallway. Most of the doors were closed and locked, but he could see light streaming through the bottom of one at the end of the hall, music softly pumping through the walls and coating the air. He turned the knob and pushed the door open slightly, peeking through to the room beyond. He slipped through the doorway silently, pressing himself against the wall and sliding down until he was seated. Across the room, with their backs to him were San and Mingi, counting out steps for a few children who were watching them in the full-length mirror along the wall. The studio lights were bright, illuminating the sweat glistening on his two friends’ necks as they repeated a complicated routine for their students again and again. The children watched carefully, counting along under their breath and trying to imitate the two older boys. Yeosang saw how patient Mingi and San were with the younger kids, coaching them gently through the areas they were struggling with, pausing and stopping the music as many times as needed before the routine had been mastered. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, unnoticed, as the boys worked with their students. His focus found San, the way his body arched just so as he turned on the ball of his foot, an arm outstretched above his head. He noticed the way his eyes fell shut and his bottom lip slipped between his teeth during a particularly complicated piece of choreography. He heard his words, gentle and encouraging as he helped the students through the routine, cheering them on when they got a step right and telling them not to give up when they felt that’s all they could do. Yeosang had seen San for so long as a douchey fuckboy, someone who only had time for himself and the occasional one night stand. With the way San talked and presented himself to the world, Yeosang would have never guessed this was who he really was; just a boy, overflowing with good. He wondered why San chose to put up a front of being such an asshole if the person he had witnessed over the past few days was who he truly was. San had made such an effort to come off as hard, impenetrable when in truth, he was so gentle, so kind, so good. This San made Yeosang soft. 

The music stopped, and Yeosang blinked, watching as the dancers finally breathed, putting their heads between their knees and leaning against the mirror to steady themselves. The children packed up, thanking their teachers and walking out together, chatting animatedly. Mingi followed them out to make sure they all had ways home. Yeosang watched them leave, feeling overwhelming admiration for how hard they worked, determined to perfect the routines. He wondered if it had come easily for his friends or if they had done this too. His thoughts were interrupted as he felt someone slide down along the wall to sit next to him, it was San. 

“Hey,” San spoke quietly, his breath still lagging behind, like a buffer.

Yeosang looked at the boy sitting beside him, watching the way his chest rose dramatically as his heart tried to find a rhythm, small droplets of sweat coating his brow and slipping down to his jaw. He flicked his eyes up to meet San’s, they were soft and open, dark in a way that drew Yeosang in, sending a blanket of calm through the older boy. He forgot how to speak, he forgot how to breathe. 

“Hello~,” San sang, his voice teasing. 

Yeosang came back to earth, “Hi,” he smiled at San, “Hello.”

San pulled out his dimples, melting everything in his path, “I’m glad you made it,” he paused to wipe his face with a towel, “How long have you been sitting here?”

“I don’t really know, honestly,” Yeosang shrugged, “I got distracted.”

“By me?” San snickered, nudging Yeosang’s shoulder with his own.

The older boy flushed, wondering if he was easy to read or San was just teasing. Either way, he decided to go with the truth, “Yes,” he murmured, “I like watching you dance.”

San reached over and took Yeosang’s hand from his lap, lacing his fingers through the older boy’s. The two of them sat there for a moment, just staring at their intertwined hands, palms pressed together. Yeosang swore he could feel San’s heartbeat moving through their hands. 

“Thank you,” San said quietly.

Yeosang looked up at him, surprised. He had expected the dancer to retort with something teasing, suggestive, but everything about San was quiet, humble. Yeosang wanted to kiss the quiet away. 

Their eyes met, “Can I kiss you?” they said together, breaking into soft laughter as the double question hung in the air.

“Yes,” they both breathed out, reaching for each other and meeting in the middle, mouths still split in mirror grins. Yeosang felt the world rocking in his belly, making every hair on his body stand up. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to hold in the whimper pushing to escape as his mouth moved against the younger boy’s. Kissing San was overwhelming.

Yeosang pulled away, leaning his head back against the wall and breathing heavily, “You’re very good at that.” 

“Kissing?” 

Yeosang nodded in response, closing his eyes and waiting for his heart to remember how to beat properly. San leaned over and pressed his lips gently against Yeosang’s ear, sending shivers through the older boy. He stood up, but not before whispering “I  _ am _ pretty good with my mouth,” and heading across the studio to get his bag. Yeosang turned every color all at once before settling on a deep red, a heat moving through him. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was due to embarrassment or arousal, he tried not to think about it. It amazed him how quickly San could go from sweet and innocent to stone-cold sex god in a matter of seconds, okay he was definitely leaning towards arousal. 

At the other end of the room, San was digging through his bag, pulling out multiple rolls of muscle tape and an empty water bottle. Yeosang watched as he pulled out a clean t-shirt, realizing a moment too late what was about to happen. San reached an arm back over his shoulder and grabbed his sweat drenched tee, pulling it over his head in one swift motion and dropping it on the floor. Yeosang’s eyes went all over, taking in the smooth curve of his spine as he rolled his shoulders and finding every beauty mark dotting the dancer’s chest and stomach. He could see the muscles in San’s shoulders rippling as he pulled a clean black shirt over his head, throwing his hair every which way. 

“Stare much?” San said cheekily, glancing at Yeosang and shoving his dirty shirt into his bag.

“Sorry,” Yeosang’s eyes flicked to the floor.

San shouldered his bag and walked back towards Yeosang, offering his hand and pulling him up from the floor. When Yeosang was standing, San snuck his arm around his waist and pulled him against his chest, “Don’t be sorry,” his voice was quiet, “I like when you stare.”

San let his mouth find Yeosang’s, pushing his chin forward gently and biting down on the older boy’s lip softly. He pulled back, looking Yeosang in the eyes, a question playing on his tongue.

“Dude, what happened?” San laughed, “You were so confident last night.”

Yeosang shrugged, “It must have been the chicken.”

San shoved him away, laughter spilling from his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, it was more than the chicken.” 

“Mmm, it was mostly the chicken.” 

The door to the studio swung open, and Mingi flew in, demanding attention.

“Yeosang!” He yelled, skipping over and wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders, squeezing him like he was an empty bottle of toothpaste.

“Ouch, Mingi, fuck.” Yeosang slurred into the tall boy’s shoulder. Mingi let him go, and Yeosang wrinkled his nose. “Also ew, you’re all sweaty.”

Mingi just grinned, “Payback for the other day.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Yeosang shrugged, he was happy to see Mingi, as loud as he was. San just stood quietly watching the two interact, a smile playing on his lips.

“Can we go eat? I’m fucking starving,” Mingi groaned, clutching his stomach.

“You’re always starving,” San said, rolling his eyes. “Go change and we’ll head out.”

Mingi saluted- he seemed to do that a lot- and jogged over to grab clean clothes from his bag. 

“There’s a cheap sit-down place across the road, does that sound okay? The food’s great,” San looked at Yeosang, head tilted slightly to the left.

“Yeah, anything sounds great,” Yeosang answered quickly, he was starving too. 

“Then let’s fucking go!” Mingi said, pushing past them and leading the way out of the building. 

 

. . .

 

The food  _ was _ really good and cheap, and the three of them ended up ordering practically the whole menu. They sat in a booth, San and Yeosang on one bench, with Mingi across from them. Yeosang was forever amused by how much the tall boy could eat. Watching as Mingi chomped on a fourth beef strip, he made a comment about it to San. 

“It goes straight to his ass and thighs,” San said, eyeing Mingi fondly and shoving a rice cake into his mouth. 

Yeosang choked on his coke, looking quickly at Mingi to gauge his reaction.

“Hey, I have an excellent ass, thank you,” Mingi said good-naturedly, piling more food onto his plate.

“Yes you do,” the two boys agreed.

The conversation was easy; Yeosang stayed mostly silent, watching San and Mingi banter back and forth. He could feel how deeply their friendship ran from the way they spoke to each other, the way Mingi would look at the smaller boy and San somehow knew exactly what he was trying to convey. 

San kept his foot hooked around Yeosang’s ankle the whole meal, Yeosang felt like he was going to explode. He still wasn’t sure what he and San were, they hadn’t had a conversation about it or anything, but he did know he wanted to keep it quiet, at least for now. 

As they were finishing up, San suddenly leaned over, grabbing the neck of Yeosang’s sweater and pulling it down, exposing his neck. It was clean, completely bare. He pulled it back up and looked at Yeosang quizzically, an eyebrow raised. Yeosang blushed and shook his head, hoping San would get the message. Mingi looked perplexedly between the two of them before reaching over and pulling Yeosang’s turtleneck down too, his neck was still bare. Yeosang yelped and pulled it out of Mingi’s hands.

“I don’t get it,” Mingi said, confused.

“That’s because there’s nothing to fucking get,” Yeosang said, glaring at San as if to say “You started this.” 

“Oh, I just wanted to feel how thick the fabric was,” San said, smooth as ever, “My turtlenecks have not been cutting it for me lately.”

Mingi opened his mouth in understanding, easily accepting San’s answer. San winked at Yeosang, and Yeosang kicked him under the table.

 

. . .

They split the bill and headed back out into the cold. Mingi walked them to the bus stop before saying goodbye- only after he had hugged them both tightly- and watched them board the bus back to campus. It was late and the bus was warm, Yeosang felt his eyes closing. 

“Can I lean on you?” He whispered to San.

“Of course,” San adjusted himself in the seat, wrapping an arm around Yeosang and pulling him close. Yeosang fell asleep almost immediately. 

San shook Yeosang awake gently when the bus reached campus.

“I’m going to walk you home,” San said, taking Yeosang’s hand and starting in the direction of his dorm.

Yeosang stopped, “You don’t have to, it’s safe.”

“Not when you’re about to fall over, Pabo,” San said, pulling Yeosang after him.

The older boy scowled but followed San through the campus grounds towards his complex. They walked in silence, fingers twisting together. When they got to Yeosang’s dorm, San rode the elevator up with him and walked him to his door. 

“Do you want to come in for a minute?” Yeosang asked, once he had unlocked the door.

“For a minute, yeah,” San said, following Yeosang in and dropping his bag on the floor of the hallway. They ended up in Yeosang’s bedroom, sitting with their legs all lined up on his mattress and their backs pressed against the wall.

“Hey,” San said, suddenly remembering, “Where the fuck did your hickeys go?”

Yeosang laughed, “I covered them up.”

San pulled Yeosang’s turtleneck down again, scanning his very empty neck. “Shit,” he breathed, “You did a really good job.”

Yeosang shrugged, “I have some experience with makeup.”

“From covering your birthmark?” San asked, eyes traveling to Yeosang’s cheekbone. 

Yeosang looked quickly at the younger boy, “How do you know about my birthmark?” He asked, surprised.

“I saw it that one time in the library,” he paused, “I think it’s really pretty,” he knocked his knee against Yeosang’s, “You’re really pretty.”

Yeosang blushed, turning his head away from San, “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“Okay,” San said quietly, watching as Yeosang slid off the bed and headed to his dresser, pulling a pair of sweats out and heading to the bathroom. 

Yeosang took his pack of makeup remover from the cabinet and wiped down his neck, revealing the rows of marks lining his jugular. He sighed and brought the wipe up near his eye, rubbing the makeup off his cheekbone and revealing the splotch of raspberry underneath. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, ending his nightly routine by slathering some serums and a bucket of moisturizer on his face. After changing into clean sweats and a muscle tee, he padded back to his room, opening the door softly. San had moved from his spot against the wall and was now snoring lightly, his arms wrapped tightly around Yeosang’s pillow. Yeosang scoffed and smiled at the dozing boy. San really didn’t have to do much to have Yeosang going soft around the edges. 

“Hey,” Yeosang nudged San lightly, not wanting to fully wake him, “If you’re staying, scoot over.”

San mumbled something about how he was going to go home soon, but Yeosang told him he was an idiot and wasn’t going anywhere. He pulled the pillow out of San’s grip and laid it at the head of the bed before crawling in beside San. He leaned down and pulled his blankets over the two of them, turning so his back was to San. 

“Good night, San,” Yeosang whispered, rolling his neck and settling into the pillow.

“Night, Baby,” San mumbled, slinging an arm around Yeosang’s middle and pulling him towards him until they were pressed together, back to chest.

“Don’t call me baby,” Yeosang mumbled quietly, sleep overtaking him.

They fell asleep, legs tangled together and San’s lips pressed to Yeosang’s bare shoulder. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://twitter.com/djspookysar 
> 
> come say hi or yell or rant or idk whatever you do on the tweeter.  
> i love you all dearly, never forget that.  
> also you, chan, i love you.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cs: How can you make fun of me ???
> 
> cs: I gave you the best blow of your life this morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay my dudes, i'm back and it's about to get S P I C Y  
> i'm so excited to finally be posting this, it took forever and i'm happy to be back.
> 
> ps. shoutout to my little brother who found my fic and made my worst nightmares come true, this one's for you  
> pps. thanks to @lilkabocha wanted san to have a tattoo, and he got one. 
> 
> as always, thank you forever for reading, it means the WORLD to me. i love you all

Overnight, it had snowed again, covering the city in a blinding blanket of white and chasing everyone off the roads and back into bed. Frost layered the windows of the dorm, blocking the light of morning from filling the room. The contrast in temperature between the world outside the building and inside the apartments was enormous. 

Yeosang woke up sweating. The heaters throughout the dorm were on full blast and his apartment was sweltering in the artificial warmth. Half asleep and dripping, he rolled out of bed and made his way to the window, pushing it open. A blast of freezing air blew through the screen, whispering over his neck and raising the hairs on his arms. He closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh scent of morning. 

He knew that opening the window wasn’t going to help anything, as the addition of cold air would just cause the heater to rise in temperature, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He looked over at his bed, grimacing at the wet outline his sweat had left on the sheets. To the right of the wet patch, under an enormous pile of blankets was San, swaddled and sleeping soundly. Yeosang stretched and went back to his bed, crawling on and draping himself over San’s back. 

“Sannie,” he whispered, shaking the sleeping boy by his shoulders, earning no reaction. He stood up, grabbing the ends of his blanket and whipping it off San in one quick motion. San’s eyes flew open and he yelped as the cold air circling the room hit his bare legs. 

“What the fuck?” San scrambled for the blankets which Yeosang had dropped at the end of the bed. Yeosang just laughed, pulling them out of San’s reach and hopping onto the bed before pouncing on the younger boy. He pushed San down by the shoulders and straddled his hips with his knees. San looked up at Yeosang, wild eyes softening when his gaze caught on the boy’s bare face, a morning blush dancing over his cheeks and blending with the strawberry birthmark by his eye. 

“That was such a bitch move, Sangie,” San grumbled, trying not to show how pleased he was to have the older boy on top of him.

“Good morning to you too, San,” Yeosang grinned. 

San pulled his arm from Yeosang’s grip and reached up, hand tracing along his neck. Yeosang pulled his head back shyly, nodding his chin down so San couldn’t touch him.

“You weren’t lying about the hickies,” San breathed, staring unabashedly at the gorgeous boy on top of him. After all of the times he had seen him with heavy makeup on, dark, fierce, intimidating; barefaced Yeosang was something else entirely. He was ethereal, a faint glow rolling over his honey glazed skin. He looked so delicate, yet something about the way his eyes bore into San’s made the younger boy understand that he was far from it. There was a fire and challenge in him which ignited something in San, silently, he accepted the challenge.

He moved his hand from Yeosang’s neck, curling his fingers into the front of his shirt and pulling him down so their foreheads met. Lifting his head off the pillow, he reached for Yeosang’s lips, only to meet an empty space.

“Nice try, homie,” Yeosang said, sitting back up and grinding his hips down into San, making him groan in frustration.

“You’re going to need to take a shower if you want any of this,” Yeosang ran his hands teasingly down San’s chest and San’s eyes darkened. 

“Get off,” San said, words caught in his throat. Yeosang yelped as San flipped him over, leaning down so he could whisper in his ear, “I’ll be right back.”

San slid off the bed, leaving Yeosang sprawled across the mattress. “The towels are in the bathroom closet,” Yeosang called after San, lifting himself off the bed and peeling off his pajamas. He pulled on clean sweats then made his way over to Yunho’s dresser, pulling open his roommate’s drawers and digging through them before he found his giant yellow sweater. He had bought it as a gift for Yunho to thank him for feeding him every day and being a (more than) decent roommate. In the few months since he had gifted it, Yeosang was pretty sure he had worn it far more often than Yunho had. 

Feeling more awake, Yeosang stripped the dirty sheets off his bed and tossed them in the laundry basket before grabbing some clean linen from the closet in the hallway. As he passed the bathroom, arms stacked with sheets and pillowcases, he heard soft singing echoing from the shower. Pausing to listen, he pressed his ear against the bathroom door, hearing San’s sweet voice mixing with the spray of water. For the nth time that week, Yeosang was hit with disbelief at what his life had become. He was aware of how much he felt for San, and it took everything in him to push away the fear of what the next day might bring, how the situation might possibly change and instead focus on everything he had now. He stood quietly, letting San’s singing wash over him, taking him out of his cramped apartment and into a world where he could see himself waking up to this every morning, one where he wouldn’t have to hide what he felt or fear that it was all too good to be true. He pulled away from the door when the water stopped, shaking himself out of his daydream and rushing back to his bedroom to change the sheets. As he zipped up the duvet cover and placed it lightly on the newly made bed, he heard San slip into the room behind him. He turned around, seemingly having forgotten how San had just been in the shower and didn’t have any clean clothes to change into. Yeosang’s eyes moved quickly from San’s feet, up to where his navy towel was wrapped around San’s slim waist, farther to where droplets of water joined the beauty marks dotting his chest and neck, his hair was all over the place like he had dried it hastily with a towel. San watched as Yeosang’s eyes traveled everywhere all at once, a small smirk making its way onto his face.

“Stare much?” He said softly, taking a step forward towards Yeosang.

Yeosang cleared his throat, turning around and walking to his dresser to find a pair of sweatpants for San. He stuck his arm out towards the younger boy, offering him the pants and keeping his face turned away.

He felt San pull the sweats from his grasp before hearing the unmistakable sound of a towel being dropped to the floor. Yeosang’s cheeks reddened, Choi San was naked in his room. Cool, cool, cool.

After a few moments, “You can turn around now, weirdo.”

Yeosang turned around slowly, finding San standing way too close, his sweatpants a bit too big and riding low on San’s hips. He hadn’t given him boxers, and honestly, San was doing a bad job at letting anything be left to the imagination. 

“Don’t call me a weirdo,” Yeosang said, his voice strained. 

San let his hand travel up to Yeosang’s face, brushing a loose piece of hair off the older boy’s forehead before letting his palm rest along his cheek. 

“You don’t want to see my dick?” San whispered, his smirk turning into something reminiscent of the devil.

Yeosang blushed, then scoffed, “No.”

San raised an eyebrow in mock offense, “No?” His thumb stroked a pattern against Yeosang’s jaw, “That’s a shame because I kind of wanted to see yours.”

“Oh,” Yeosang began, but San cut him off by pressing his lips gently against his, immediately pushing his tongue against Yeosang’s teeth, begging for entry. Yeosang opened his mouth and they fell against the bed together, Yeosang lying flat against the blankets and San moving on top of him, one knee on either side of the boy’s waist. He let one of his hands move downward, tracing the edge of Yeosang’s sweater, his fingertips brushing lightly against his navel. San’s fingers were cold and pruned against Yeosang’s belly, he felt like he was burning alive. 

“Can I take this off?” San said into Yeosang’s mouth, his hand tugging at the bottom of the faded yellow sweater. Yeosang nodded quickly, arching his back and lifting his arms so San could drag the sweater off him. 

Yeosang gasped as the cold breeze from the window hit his bare chest. The room was everything all at once. The air around them swam with warmth from the heating system and freezing air from outside, wrapping the two boys in a mixture of temperature that combated the heat of their bodies pressed together. 

San walked his fingers up the expanse of Yeosang’s belly, dragging them lightly across his skin and circling the older boy’s nipples, sending ripples of heat through his veins. It was almost as if San knew every way to touch Yeosang, drawing moan after moan out of him like it was a game. He worked slowly, moving from Yeosang’s lips to his jaw, to his neck, pressing soft nips along his flaming skin. His mouth dragged downward to join his fingers, teasing the hardened points of Yeosang’s chest. The boy shivered underneath him, his back arching as his breathing quickened and his eyes closed. Yeosang could feel San’s hand trailing back down his abdomen, fingers slipping just under the waistband of his sweatpants. His mind was lost in the way San touched him, swimming at the feeling teeth on his sternum. San’s breath whispered against Yeosang’s skin, asking him for permission to continue, and as Yeosang told him yes over and over, he knew that he trusted him, deeply and thoroughly. He would let San go anywhere and do anything, trusting him to break him apart, knowing with certainty that he would put him back together. 

San’s hand slid lower, wrapping around Yeosang and pulling quiet mewls out of him. Yeosang’s fingers clawed desperately at his bedsheets as San’s mouth replaced his hand, searching frantically for something to ground him. He stilled as San brought his hand up, sliding his fingers between Yeosang’s and squeezing comfortingly. San gave him absolutely everything. And palms pressed together, Yeosang felt his world fracture. 

 

. . .

 

After, San pulled himself up to meet Yeosang’s mouth with his own, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling his head back and looking the older boy in the eyes.

“Hi,” he whispered, his lips slick and swollen and smiling.

“Hey there,” Yeosang rasped, still a bit shaky.

“How was that for you?”

“Mmm, mostly decent.”

“Mostly decent?” San asked teasingly, “Think you could do better?”

Yeosang pushed himself up on his elbows, making San lean back and study him curiously. 

“Let’s find out,” Yeosang grinned, pushing San off him and onto his back before tracing his fingers across the younger boy’s neck. “You have freckles here,” his voice softer now. He let his head fall to San’s neck, pressing his nose into the dotted skin and sucking a mark into the space below his jaw. His hand traveled down, running gently along San’s thigh, making San keen in anticipation. He had the younger boy right where he wanted him, pliant and needy, open to whatever Yeosang would give him. Yeosang was filled with untamable softness for the boy as he watched the way his eyes fluttered closed when his fingers danced over his pelvic bone, letting soft pants fall from his lips, asking Yeosang for “more, please more.” Yeosang took pity on him, pausing his teasing movements and quickly kissing San’s open mouth before pressing his palm right where San needed him. The way San bucked his hips up at Yeosang’s touch had them both gasping, Yeosang felt a heat running through his body, simultaneously embarrassed and awed that he could make someone feel this way. He slipped his hand under the waistband of San’s pants, reminded quickly that the younger boy had nothing on underneath, he flicked his eyes to San’s, who nodded, prodding him to continue.

Yeosang took a breath, and San’s phone rang. The two boys jumped, scrambling apart and looking around wildly as if someone had walked in on them.

“It’s mine,” San said, adjusting his pants which were stretched tightly over his crotch and grabbing his phone from the bedside table.

“Hello?” San listened for a moment, his eyes widening and turning to look at the clock on the wall, “Fuck! Fuck, Mingi I totally- I don’t know what happened, I’m coming right now, don’t cancel anything.”

Phone still to his ear he jumped off the bed, running to the hallway and grabbing his bag. 

“Give me thirty, I’ll be there,” he hung up.

Yeosang flew to his side, “You had work! How did we forget you had work?” He said weakly, horrified that he had made San late.

“It’s not your fault, Sangie, it’s mine, totally mine.” He dropped his pants, sending Yeosang into a panic.

“Oh my god, Yeosang, you were literally about to get me off not two minutes ago, it’s fine.” San laughed at Yeosang’s flushed cheeks and pulled on a pair of underwear before putting the sweats back on. “I’m borrowing these,” he planted a quick kiss on Yeosang’s forehead, “Thanks, baby.” He dug a dirty shirt out of his bag and threw it over his head, pulling on socks, shoes and a coat before grabbing Yeosang by the shoulders. 

“I’ll be back in six hours, don’t go anywhere.” He kissed Yeosang’s nose, opened the door to the hallway and disappeared.

 

. . .

 

Yeosang got bored, and the hallway was beckoning, so he grabbed his skateboard and headed out into the deserted corridors of the dorm building. After two hours of mindless skating, music pounding through his headphones, he kicked his board to the side and laid down on the carpeted floor. He felt antsy, his foot bouncing quickly and uncontrollably against the stained fabric beneath him. It bothered him that he had made San late for work, but the fact that he had run out to teach a bunch of kids how to dance with a raging boner was fucking hilarious to Yeosang. He decided he should probably check in on him and make sure that he had made it to work in one piece.

 

**ys: are u alive**

**ys: ?**

 

**cs: OMG**

**cs: Barely**

 

**ys: how’d it go this morning?**

 

**cs: Dude it would NOT go away**

**cs: Mingi caught me before I could reach the bathroom and…**

**cs: Let’s just say I’m never living that shit down**

 

**ys: oops**

 

**cs: Yeosang**

 

**ys: ???**

 

**cs: I’m so horny I might cry**

 

**ys: lol**

**ys: don’t cry, the children will laugh**

 

**cs: How can you make fun of me ???**

**cs: I gave you the best blow of your life this morning**

 

**ys: sure**

 

**cs: !!! Listen, Linda**

**cs: Tomorrow’s Saturday**

**cs: Let’s have a sleepover**

 

**ys: okay**

**ys: let me ask my mom**

 

**cs: Oh**

**cs: Okay?**

 

**ys: she said yes**

 

**cs: She did?**

 

**ys: she did**

**ys: one request**

 

**cs: Hit me**

 

**ys: can we PLEASE do it at your place?**

**ys: if i have to stay in this apartment any longer i will**

**ys: DIE**

 

**cs: We can most definitely do it at my place**

**cs: Does five work?**

 

**ys: yes**

 

**cs: See you there, cutie**

 

**ys: gross**

 

. . .

 

Yeosang was grateful to be getting out, even if it was just to go sit in another apartment. It was a week into winter break and there was still Christmas to get through. He was over the moon about having San, but he missed his friends. The boys had been sharing photos and funny stories from their respective vacations, making Yeosang wish he could fill them in on what he’d been up to. He hadn’t discussed anything with San regarding telling their friends about their situation, and he still had to figure out how to break it to Wooyoung. He hadn’t even remembered about his best friend’s thing for San until after they had been kissing for a few days. It was like a knot in his stomach, one that he knew he’d have to deal with eventually. When Yeosang had told Wooyoung he wasn’t interested, he hadn’t been lying, but things had changed and he couldn’t deny that, couldn’t go back to _not_ feeling this way about San. 

He pushed Wooyoung out of his mind, hating himself for avoiding the conversation he knew had to happen. His phone buzzed. 

 

**cs: I’m ready for you**

 

**ys: *speed walking over***

 

**cs: Don’t slip**

Read 5:06 PM

 

. . .

 

It took three rounds of knocking before San opened the door to his apartment for Yeosang, immediately grabbing his wrist and pulling him inside.

He took Yeosang’s bag, “Welcome back.”

“I forgot I’ve been here,” Yeosang said, looking around. 

San snickered, “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to remember much, you were pretty hammered.”

“Yeah, let’s _not_ talk about it.”

“Okay, close your eyes, I want to show you something.”

Yeosang looked quizzically at San, lifting his shoulders in question.

“Hush, you’ll see,” San moved behind Yeosang, lifting his hands to cover the older boy’s eyes. 

“Okay, you can walk, I’ll guide you,” San said softly into Yeosang’s ear.

Hesitantly, Yeosang took a step forward, feeling San pressed warmly against his back, pushing him gently in the direction he needed to go. He heard a door creak open in front of him.

“Okay, you can look,” San said, moving his hands from Yeosang’s eyes to his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

Yeosang opened his eyes, and let out a cackle, “Oh my god, San, this is…” He trailed off, looking around in amazement at what San had done.

“Do you like it?” San asked, squeezing Yeosang’s waist quickly.

There were sheets draped from the ceiling and along the walls, creating a tent-like space in the center of the room. The floor was strewn with pillows, and a mattress lay in the middle of it all, covered in blankets and an assortment of plushies.

“Dude, that’s a ton of fucking plushies.”

San pinched Yeosang, “Hey, don’t make fun of my collection, it’s impressive.”

“Sure,” Yeosang shook his head in amazement, “I can’t believe you made us a pillow fort.”

“Well, It’s always been my dream to have sex in one so I thought, why not?”

Yeosang’s breath hitched, and San spun him around to face him.

“Would you want that?” San asked softly, his eyes searching Yeosang’s gently.

Yeosang drew his bottom lip between his teeth, studying the boy in front of him. His eyebrows were knitted together in genuine question, never assuming or pushing for something Yeosang wasn’t comfortable with. San had never been anything but gentle with him, and Yeosang trusted him implicitly. He craved to be close to the younger boy, and this type of intimacy was something he wanted so desperately, not only physically, but emotionally as well. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” San said, Yeosang could tell he meant it. “I only want what you want-”

Yeosang cut him off, his words and breath tumbling out all at once, “I want to, I want that…” He brought his mouth to San’s and kissed him deeply, “I want you.”

San giggled against Yeosang’s lips, “You do?”

Yeosang nodded, wrapping his arms around San’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. 

“Okay,” He giggled again, and Yeosang brought his head back to look at him.

“Are you nervous?” Yeosang asked quietly, running his fingers comfortingly through San’s dark hair.

San shrugged, a sad smile tugging at his lips, “Maybe. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to do this,” he sighed, hesitating, “nevermind, it’s whatever-”

“No, you can tell me,” Yeosang said, concerned, “I want to know what you’re feeling.”

San met the older boy’s eyes, “I’m feeling like this is exactly what I want; like you’re exactly what I want, usually, I- I just do it because it’s there, not because I want it.”

Yeosang’s heart broke for San. He knew what it was to use sex as an escape, and though it could help momentarily, it always hurt more afterward.

“I’m so sorry, Sanie, it shouldn’t have to be like that.”

“It’s okay, it was always my choice, there’s no one to blame.”

“Are you sure you want this?” 

San nodded in response, “I really do, Sangie, I promise.”

Yeosang kissed him again, gently, as if he could tell San that he was safe here with every movement of his lips.

“You have to tell me if it gets to be too much, okay? Promise me you’ll tell me if you need to stop.”

“Of course,” San pulled at Yeosang’s earlobe, “I promise.”

They moved into the room, the sheets rippling above them and the floor plush beneath their feet. It felt like a haven, safe and undiscoverable; as if they were the only two people in the world.   
“Wait, there’s more,” San said, moving to turn off the light. The room fell into darkness for a moment, but then San switched on a lamp and everything began to glow. Light shone through the thin multicolored sheets, creating a soft and colorful pattern of light across everything.

“This feels like magic,” Yeosang gasped, blushing when he realized how cheesy he sounded.

San grinned at him, “That’s exactly what I was going for.”

He sank to his knees on the pillows and crawled forward until he reached Yeosang, who was kneeling on the mattress. “You look pretty like this,” San said, staring at the way the colors fell over Yeosang’s cheeks.

“Like what?”

“Just, like this, like you, I don’t know,” San paused, “Always.”

Yeosang felt something rise in his chest, and it took everything in him not to pounce on San. If they were going to do this, he wanted to go slowly. He wanted to feel every touch San pressed to his skin, every beat of his heart, every thrum of desire that rushed through him.

“Please kiss me,” Yeosang whispered, the desperation was so evident in his voice and he really couldn’t bring himself to care. He hadn’t wanted anybody this much in a long time. 

San did, carefully pushing him back against the mattress, and knocking his chin forward.

Everything felt charged, the air around them almost electric with want. The way their fingers brushed against each other delicately, teasing and curious, as if they were afraid to break each other. 

Yeosang let go of San’s neck, bringing his hands down to lift his shirt above his head. San grinned and did the same, grabbing both of their shirts and throwing them off to the side. He sat back, letting his eyes wander over the expanse of Yeosang’s torso, reaching out a hand and tracing his finger ever so lightly from the dip in his collarbone all the way down to the thin trail of hair at the bottom of his abdomen. The older boy shivered underneath him, squirming impatiently. It was as if a thousand extra nerve endings had ignited throughout his body, every touch raking through him like an explosion. 

San’s eyes widened at Yeosang’s sensitivity, “Fuck, Sangie, I barely touched you.” Yeosang only whimpered in response. Curiously, San hooked his fingers through the loops of Yeosang’s jeans, the older boy lifting his hips in permission. He pulled them off slowly, laughing quietly when Yeosang’s feet got tangled in the stiff fabric. 

San grabbed one of Yeosang’s knees as he brought his legs back towards his chest, examining his socks with mild confusion, “Are there dicks on your socks?”

Yeosang rolled his eyes, “They’re supposed to be skateboards, Yunho isn’t incredibly gifted in the art department.”

“Ah, are you keeping them on?”

“Nope, are you keeping your pants on?”

“Nope,” San tugged both of Yeosang’s socks off, throwing them behind his shoulder before reaching for the drawstring on his sweats.

“Do you need a warning this time?” San said, concentrating on undoing the knot at his waist.

“What are you talking about?”

“I just don’t want you to freak when I pull my dick out,” San said, half-serious.

“Should I lower my expectations?” Yeosang asked, dripping sass.

“Not at all,” San said in a breath, and wiggled out of his pants, bringing his underwear down with them. San smirked as Yeosang’s pursed his lips, trying not to look too impressed.

“Your turn,” San said, snapping the elastic of Yeosang’s briefs.

“Go on then,” Yeosang looked at San expectantly, arching his back off the ground to make it easier for the younger boy to rid him of his last article of clothing.

Yeosang sat up and faced San. They eyed each other, smiles emerging on both of their faces. It felt almost dangerous, the way they wanted each other. It was a vulnerable place to be, laid bare with absolutely nothing to hide behind, and it scared both of them. 

San placed a quick kiss on Yeosang’s nose before hopping up and running out of the room, returning in less than a minute, a condom and a bottle of lube clutched in his palm. 

Yeosang grinned up at him shyly, eyes feasting on San’s lithe figure, the way he curved and dipped, thin and thick, beautiful. 

He reached a hand up towards San and San took it, sinking to his knees in front of Yeosang.

“I wasn’t asking for your hand,” Yeosang giggled, reveling in the surprise that flooded San’s face. 

“You want to top?” San smiled wickedly.

Yeosang pfft, “You seriously thought I was going to let you top me?”

San nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, finding all of this information incredibly enlightening. 

“Well you thought wrong, cutie,” Yeosang said, scooping the condom and lube from San’s hand. 

Yeosang looked at him carefully, “Is that a problem for you?”

“No, I’m good with either,” his smile widened, “That’s kind of hot, baby.”

Yeosang’s eyes darkened at the nickname.

 “Oh don’t be like that, I know you like it, baby”

“I’ll never admit it,” Yeosang said, pushing San on to his back and straddling him. 

“Sure,” San whispered, mouth opening as Yeosang leaned down to meet his lips. Yeosang let San take the lead as he popped open the bottle of lube and coated his fingers.

“Ready?” San nodded beneath him.

Yeosang kissed San deeper with every finger he pressed inside him, listening to the younger boy moan and whine underneath him as he opened him up, ever so gently. 

When Yeosang finally pushed into San, their fingers twisted together, chasing after breath, it felt like the truth. It was almost as if someone had whispered the answer to everything into Yeosang’s ear. He felt the word “Oh,” fall past his lips, because finally, _finally,_ everything made sense. 

After a minute San lifted his head from his shoulder, snaking his legs around Yeosang’s waist. “Okay,” he whispered, voice cracking just a little.

Yeosang began to move against San, his hips rolling slowly and languidly. The boys gasped in unison, pleasure and warmth flooding through them as they clutched each other, their breathing a staccato against the still air around them. 

San tightened his grip on Yeosang, pulling him deeper, “You’re not going to break me, Sangie, I can take it, please.”

Yeosang tilted his head back, his eyes locking with San’s, blown wide and dripping with need. He pressed his lips firmly against the dark-haired boy’s, twisting their fingers together and lifting San’s hand above his head. He let his head drop against San’s neck, hair brushing against his skin and making him arch his back. Yeosang took advantage of the new angle and picked up his pace, coaxing loud and desperate whines out of San as they moved together, chasing release. His mouth found San’s neck, tongue sliding along his collarbone before his teeth sank down sharply on his shoulder. 

It was a race, like horses on sand desperate to reach the waves and get swept up in the tide. San tumbled over the edge first, dragging Yeosang along immediately after with a strangled cry. 

Yeosang collapsed on top of San, the boy letting out a small “Oof” under his weight. It took a minute before Yeosang could push himself up, rolling off of San and settling into the space beside him. San turned his head towards Yeosang, propping his chin up on his elbow and splaying a hand across the older boy’s chest, feeling the way his heart slowly calmed beneath his fingertips. 

Yeosang looked at San, suddenly shy under the heat of his gaze, dropping his head to his chest. San laughed and lifted Yeosang’s chin gently, rocking forward on his arm and slotting their lips together. He tried to remember the last time he felt so safe, so comfortable. He couldn’t remember the last time his skin fit this perfectly. San pulled away, brushing a piece of Yeosang’s hair from his forehead, he pulled his lips into a gentle smile, dimples peeking through.

“That was,” he paused thoughtfully, “Chef’s kiss.”

Yeosang blinked, pulling his hand back from where it was resting on San’s waist. “Take that back.”

“Why?” San laughed, “It’s true!”

“I do not, under any circumstances, accept praise in the form of memes.”

San laughed louder, and Yeosang shoved him onto his back.

“Stop, stop, stop,” San gasped, stray giggles rolling through him. “I need to pee.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes as San pulled himself off the mattress and turned to leave. Something on San’s left hip caught Yeosang’s eye, and he grabbed his calf before he could escape, pulling him closer. 

“How did I miss that before?” Yeosang whispered, looking quickly up at San and then back down at his hip. Just under his pelvic bone, spread across the milky expanse of skin in a range of blue and gold and orange was a small tattooed angel, robes billowing and wings outstretched. Yeosang moved his hand up San’s leg, fingers tracing feather-light across the angel’s wings. 

San spoke quietly, “Raphael, angel of healing.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Yeosang murmured, still tracing the delicate lines of the angel. He could see the way San’s skin raised as his fingers swept across it. 

“Thank you, I like it too,” San shook his leg a bit, loosening it from Yeosang’s grip. “Still gotta pee, Sangie.” 

Yeosang released San’s leg, apologizing quickly and watching San jog out of the room. He fell back against the mattress, gathering blankets around him and burying himself under the weight of the feathers. He lay still, playing and replaying the way the two of them had moved together, feeling almost overwhelmed with happiness. It had been so much more than he had anticipated, the connection beyond anything physical. He could hear San singing faintly from down the hall, his voice sweet and wavering.

His phone started ringing, and Yeosang sat up, crawling over to his discarded jeans and digging through the pockets for his cell. It was Wooyoung.

He picked up, “Hey, Woo.”

“Sangie! Hi, I miss you!” Yeosang pulled the phone back slightly from his ear, Wooyoung was loud.

“I miss you too, how are you doing? How’s your mom?” He turned on the speaker and dropped the phone on the bed, reaching over and pulling on his underwear before settling back onto the mattress. 

“Everyone’s so good!”

Yeosang could hear Wooyoung’s smile through the line and he found himself grinning, it had been a while since he had heard his voice. Wooyoung told him about Japan, detailing the exorbitant meals he’d had and how his little brother had had a bad fall on the ski slopes. Yeosang listened dutifully, laughing with Wooyoung over the photos Yunho had been sending them; he’d been mostly naked for the entirety of his time at home and had been gracing their group chat with photos for a week. 

San walked back into the room, wearing sweats. He dropped onto the mattress, tackling Yeosang and pressing a wet smooch to his nose. Yeosang yelped then clutched a hand to his mouth. San looked confused and opened his mouth to say something, but Yeosang clapped his other hand over San’s lips, shutting him up. San raised his eyebrows at him, confused. Yeosang shook his head and then gestured to his phone. 

Wooyoung’s voice floated up to them, “Sangie, is someone there? What happened?”

Yeosang picked up the phone, his palm pressing against San’s mouth. “Uh, no, no one’s here. I just, uh… stubbed my toe.” 

He cringed as he felt San stick out his tongue, licking his hand teasingly. 

“Stop that,” he whispered, holding the phone away.

San ignored him, sinking his teeth into the meaty part of Yeosang’s hand. 

“Listen, Youngie, I’m gonna call you back later, okay?”

“Okay!” Wooyoung sounded unphased, his voice chipper as ever, “Love you, Sangie.”

“Love you too,” Yeosang muttered hurriedly, hanging up and chucking his phone across the room. He tore his hand from San’s mouth, wiping San’s drool off on the younger boy’s sweatpants. “Ew, San.”

San just let out a loud cackle, “You’re cute when you’re angry,” he paused, “Why didn’t you want him to hear me?”

Yeosang shrugged, “It’s too soon,” He pushed San back onto the mattress, laying his head gently on his chest and taking his hand, “Let’s not tell anyone yet.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU MADE IT ILY <3  
> ps. i made a twitter, so if you want to say hi or send me photos of mingi you can find me at @djspookysar
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated.  
> stay safe, cuties <3

**Author's Note:**

> i guess this is a thing fic writers have ??  
> come say hi :)
> 
> https://curiouscat.me/djspookyjiiim


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